2: Master of Sight
by HermitKnut
Summary: Lord Voldemort is dead. Here's to a happy ending; or not. Post-war life is far more complex than anyone expected. After a devastating blow so early, the Potters are left reeling – but it's only the beginning. With the death of outright evil, something more subtle has taken its place, and one wizard may not be enough. This time, it takes a whole family. Part 2 of Lightning Clan.
1. Reboot, Reborn

_LEAK: EDDIE POTTER "MAY NEVER PLAY AGAIN"_

_Eddie Potter said to have suffered crippling hand injuries…_

The youngest Potter was discharged from St Mungo's after three days, just in time to attend the funeral of the only other casualty of the fire.

Emilia Leanne Brown.

It was a quiet affair, mostly just immediate family and a few friends. Henrietta didn't attend, Zak noted, not certain if he was pleased or annoyed by this. He took another swig of coca cola and decided he didn't care any more.

The remnants of Phoenix gathered at Zak's flat the day after the funeral, having decided to meet up to commiserate – and also, in theory, to celebrate Eddie's return to his flat from hospital, though Zak doubted anyone would be in the mood to do much celebrating. They had intended to watch some pointless yet distracting films, play some cards, try to sidetrack one another from the world – but somewhat unsurprisingly, without any conspiracy, everyone had individually decided to bring a six-pack with them.

Four hours and a seemingly impossible-to-measure amount of alcohol later, Zak reflected that he had, in all likelihood, never been this drunk before, and, come the morning, would probably decide never to be so again. But for now the whole world was skewed around the edges, which made it a lot easier not to look at the things he didn't want to.

The others were just as bad as he was, Zak knew. They had spent most of the last few hours talking about ridiculous things and impossibly funny jokes that he knew were only funny because he wasn't sober, but now things were quiet. The seven of them were scattered across the room, each deeply involved in their own thoughts. Eddie was sitting on the floor leaning against the side of the sofa, several drinks behind everyone else but somehow seeming far more intoxicated. Zak knew he shouldn't let Eddie drink any more, but his hand had found his own most recent can and swigging it down seemed the only natural thing to do by this point.

It was only when he saw the devastation clearly visible on Eddie's face that Zak realised his friend needed to go home. He sent the others wandering to taxis and walked Eddie the short distance between their flats themselves, collapsing on Eddie's sofa when he didn't feel he could make it back home.

x

February 2030

It was a quiet, cold day. The temperature was the lowest of the winter that February, and the sun shone clearly and harshly down on the frosted pavements and icy roads in London. In an apartment on the third floor of a pleasant if run-down building, a young man with black hair and bandaged hands was rummaging through his desk drawers.

Eddie took out a huge wad of papers from the second drawer down and started shuffling through them. It had been just over two months since the fire, and without an income he had finally decided to move back to his parents' house until he could find another job. He'd held out this long because he was determined to retain his independence; but if he stayed any longer, he would have to start reaching into his savings which he reluctantly knew would not be a good plan in the long run. So, he was spending today sorting through his things. It was an uninteresting but welcome distraction from both the dull, barely-numbed pain in both his hands and from the other more inescapable fact: that since the fire, he had not been able to write a single note of music. His imagination, normally overflowing with tunes and melodies and rhythms, had failed him, and he had spent the last sixty-five days bereft of inspiration, in a silence that seemed to burn at his heart.

Some of the papers slipped out of his hands and he went to catch them without thinking. The muscles in his hands seized up and he flinched, dropping everything he was holding. Eddie let out a long sigh and knelt down to gather the papers together again carefully. His hands had been severely damaged; magic was helping – without it he would have lost both of them – but it would still take a long time before they were fully healed. He was beginning to get back the movement that he had lost, but they were still weak and painful.

Trying to focus more on the matters at hand, upon reaching the bottom of the pile of paper he discovered several pages of music drawn in a childish hand. These must have been some of the first things he had written, back when Jamie had shown him how to. He pulled them out from underneath everything else, smoothed them out on the surface of the desk, and began to read.

A few minutes later, without looking away from the piece of paper, his bandaged hands reached for the book of manuscript paper on the shelf above the desk.

x

Three days later, Zak had had enough. He and the others had arranged to meet up with Eddie on different days, knowing that if no one went to see him he would just stay inside his flat, doing little. Their plan seemed to have worked at first, up until now – Webster and Adam had been supposed to meet Eddie and go to the football a couple of days ago, but he hadn't turned up. Fair enough; they all knew Eddie had his bad days. But when Zak had called him the next day, unable to visit because of a family member's birthday, both the landline and Eddie's mobile had rang and rang and rang with no answer. Today, Zak decided Eddie had hidden long enough. He called the others together and he, Amy, Adam, Sam, Finea and Webster made their way to Eddie's flat together.

When they got there, they knocked on the door. There was no response. They banged on the door, called his name, but there was nothing. Silence. The six of them stood there in the corridor, looking at each other, wondering what to do. Eventually, worried, Zak produced a hairpin and began to pick the lock.

"How did you learn to do that?" asked Amy suspiciously, as Zak knelt down to get the best angle.

"Joe taught me," Zak said with a wry grin. "Always a useful talent, particularly if you're like me and you lock yourself out a lot."

After several seconds of careful concentration, the lock clicked and Zak stood. Turning the handle, he opened the door hesitantly.

"Eddie?" he called softly, no longer wanting to shout. The heating was on but the flat seemed cool, dry and still. He walked cautiously and slowly into the flat, the others behind him. He couldn't hear any movement. However, on the back of the sofa and scattered all over the floor, there were dozens of sheets of paper.

"It's manuscript," said Finea quietly behind him, bending down to look. "Zak?"

Zak had moved away from the group, around the other side of the sofa. As the others watched, he crouched down to something they couldn't see, and then raised his head.

"Guys, come give me a hand, will you?"

The rest of them came around the end of the sofa. Eddie was sitting on the floor, his head resting in between his arms on the low coffee table, his eyes closed, deeply asleep. Several empty cups that smelt strongly of coffee were beside him, and beneath his head was another sheet of manuscript paper, this one only half covered with Eddie's undecipherable scrawl. The floor around him was covered with similar sheets, arranged to no particular order that Zak could make out.

Slowly, Zak knelt down next to him and placed a hand on his back.

"Eddie?" he called softly. Eddie murmured something Zak didn't make out and turned his head slightly, but didn't wake up. Zak took hold of his shoulder, carefully making sure it was the left one as he knew the right was still sore, and shook it gently as he called Eddie's name again.

"Eddie? Ed? Wake up, Ed," he said. At this Eddie's eyelids fluttered a little, then opened briefly before he scrunched up his eyes and recoiled from the light in the room.

"Mmm? What… what time is it?" he asked slowly, his voice croaking a little with tiredness. He yawned as he pulled himself upright, rubbing at his eyes gently with a bandaged wrist.

"Nearly half-past four in the afternoon, Eddie," Zak said, raising his eyebrows. "Been busy?" He glanced around the room at the mass amounts of manuscript paper, wondering how long it had all taken to spread out like that – or had Eddie been writing all this time? Zak wouldn't put it past him.

"It looks like you got caught in a musical whirlwind, Ed," said Finea. Eddie gave a short laugh.

"Something like that," he said, looking around.

"Want some help gathering it together?" Adam asked, and at Eddie's sleepy nod the other five started to gather the sheets of paper together in loose piles. Zak stayed by Eddie's side – his best friend seemed more than a little out of it and Zak couldn't help but be worried that he might pass out.

As they tidied, Amy spoke.

"Hang on, Ed – I haven't seen this before." The others looked around; she was studying one of the pieces of music.

"Is this new music, Eddie?" Sam asked curiously. "I thought you couldn't write –" At a warning glance from Zak, Sam stopped abruptly, and there was an awkward pause. Eddie said nothing, still rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly.

When they had made all the music into a pile on the coffee table in front of him, Eddie carefully, and not a little bit clumsily, got to his feet. He stood there, looking exhausted.

"Eddie… this music… did you write it all in the last couple of days?" ventured Zak warily. Eddie nodded and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, clearly worn out but determined to stay awake. Finea returned from the kitchen – Zak hadn't noticed she had gone – with a plastic bottle of water. Eddie took it from her gratefully and gripped it in both hands to drink. The water seemed to revive him a little. He looked around at the others.

"I think…we could do it."

No one answered him for a moment, not understanding.

"Do what, Eddie?" Finea asked, watching him carefully.

"Only if the rest of you wanted to, of course… and I'm not saying it'd be easy, we'd be sinking our own money into it… and it might not even work, but I think…"

Zak interrupted him, knowing he would talk like that for hours if left to it.

"Eddie, what do you think you've figured out?"

"How to bring Phoenix back."

Stunned silence filled the room. Eddie's expression was suddenly nervous, uncertain.

"I understand if no one wants to, I just think I know how, and I thought… you should know…" He trailed off into silence. After about half a minute, Zak spoke.

"I'll join up," he said. There was a pause, and then Finea took a step forward.

"And me," she said.

Webster glanced at Adam, and then Sam.

"Count us in too."

"Amy?" Zak asked, looking at her. She nodded, slowly.

"Yep. Definitely."

They all turned back to Eddie and watched the first real smile he had had in two months spread slowly across his face. His grin was contagious and Zak felt happy for the first time in a long while.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, clapping his hands together.

x

Joe was in the process of unlocking the door to the flat he shared with Henry when he heard the sound of two people walking along the corridor. He turned. Eddie and Zak came and stood beside him.

"Hey you two," he said, opening the door. "Come in. Ed, it's nice to see you out and about."

Eddie nodded and glanced at Zak before speaking.

"Actually, Joe, we came to ask you for some help," he said carefully. Joe looked at the two of them with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, really?" he said. "Well, if I can I'll be glad to. I know things have been difficult." He also knew this was an understatement, but neither of the other two corrected him. He threw his coat over the back of an armchair and went over to the kitchen area.

"Tea, coffee?" he asked.

"Tea for me," Zak said. "Thanks, Joe."

"No problem," Joe replied. "Eddie?"

"Water?"

"Sure."

When they had settled down on the sofa with their drinks, Joe observed the other two carefully.

"So," he began, "what can I help you with?"

Zak and Eddie glanced at each other again.

"We're restarting Phoenix."


	2. Pitch Perfected

It was a good thing that the other residents in Eddie's block of flats were not that observant, Zak reflected as he and Joe made their way there. When they arrived, the others were already there and waiting for them.

"Sorry I'm late," Zak said.

"How did it go?" Webster asked. Joe grinned.

"Perfectly. You lot now have almost all the instruments you need, and I have a fair amount of work to do," he said.

"Did you find somewhere?" Zak asked Amy and Sam. They nodded.

"It's a little theatre off New Street," Sam said. "The owner has half a dozen places like it, he's quite happy to rent it out at a low price."

"Brilliant!" Zak said. They had so far struggled to find a space to rehearse. Amy shook her head, giggling.

"That's not the best bit – we're literally around the corner from the Studio," she said. Adam laughed. The Studio was the little place that the former members of Mixed Blood, Eddie's mum's group, owned together.

"God, imagine Jack and the others' faces when we crop up right under their noses," Adam crowed, delighted. The rest of the group laughed.

"Eddie, how's the music coming along?" Zak asked. Everyone turned to listen to Eddie's reply.

"I've got it all perfected, almost," he said, nodding. "I just need to either put it on the computer or find some other way –"

"– of making it readable?" Sam suggested. Eddie nodded, smiling.

"Well, Mr Spartz said we could start moving our stuff in tomorrow, and because no one else is using the building it's okay for us to store it there," Amy said. "If we can all meet at Joe's at around eleven tomorrow, we can start shifting stuff."

Joe nodded.

"Zak has my spare keys, because I'll be at work, but I'll come meet you guys there on my lunch break and see how things are going," he said. The others nodded.

"Has Henry figured this out?" Webster asked. "I mean, it's got to be pretty obvious, surely…"

Joe laughed.

"Henry's a sweetheart. He knows something's going on, but when he asked I told him it was supposed to be a secret and did he mind if I kept it to myself, which of course he didn't. He's going to kick himself when he finds out, but I don't think it's going to be a problem."

"What's next on the itinerary, then?" Amy said.

"Well, we've got a rehearsal and performance space, and the instruments are more or less sorted, the music's at half-way point," said Zak, counting things off on his fingers as he said them. "All that's left is technical and publicity."

"I'll call Josie tomorrow," Eddie said, sounding weary. "She should be able to slip us into _Review_ without a problem, hopefully." _Review_ was a yearly show featuring a song or two from several up-and-coming bands and performers. It drew a big audience of critics and journalists, and often determined how the critical reception of an act would play out. Phoenix were relying on _Review_ to be the source of their publicity – their own show went on one week after, and having effectively disappeared from the public eye for the last few months, they were hoping that their sudden and unexpected reappearance would evoke enough curiosity to sell tickets.

Zak held back a grim smile. They all knew it wasn't so much their disappearance as Eddie's – the so-called musical genius retreating into virtual solitude after a debilitating injury was a story that had kept quite a few reporters busy for some time after the event. Eddie himself didn't seem to realise this, though. Zak eyed his best friend with no small amount of concern; he seemed no less pale and thin than he had been in the days after the fire, and although since they'd started to pull the band back together he had seemed reinvigorated, there was rarely a smile on his face.

Zak pulled himself out of his thoughts and back to the matter at hand. He clapped his hands together once.

"Right, then we're on track," he said, making sure to inject some cheer into his voice. "What does anyone want to do now?"

"Well, I should head home," Joe said. "I want to get started on some of the stuff we found today." Zak nodded.

"Thanks again, Joe," he said, smiling. His older friend grinned back at him and grabbed his coat before leaving. Phoenix had very little money to spend and had lost all of their instruments in the fire; Joe had agreed to help them find old, damaged or broken instruments that they could buy comparatively cheaply, and then fix them himself for free. He had become quite enthusiastic about his 'project' as he called it, constantly fiddling with odd bits of wood, metal and plastic, and turning up out of the blue with repaired instruments that Zak barely recognised as the mangled things they found in car boot sales and junk markets.

"I promised my mum I'd be on skype tonight," Sam said, shrugging and rolling his eyes. "She's in America visiting my cousins and I don't think she thinks I'm alright on my own." Zak nodded.

"Well, if no one else has anything on, we could order pizza," he suggested, glancing at Eddie to see how he took this idea. The youngest member of their group was still sat perched on the arm of the sofa, his face pale as ever, his stormy eyes gazing at nothing in particular.

"Eddie?" he asked. Eddie blinked suddenly and turned to him.

"Mm?"

"Pizza?"

"Yeah, okay," Eddie agreed, a faint smile gracing his lips for a moment before disappearing again. The others agreed, and Amy was soon on the phone to the local pizza place, pacing their order.

The food came and was eaten quickly; Eddie's gloomy, pensive mood seemed to be infecting everyone else. Just over an hour later, they all said their goodbyes and made their separate ways home. Zak was the last to leave, and he felt a now familiar uncomfortable twist in his stomach at the idea of leaving Eddie home alone tonight. But he couldn't think of any excuse to stay and so walked out of the door after the others, leaving Eddie with his music.

x

August 2030

"Happy Birthday, Ed!"

"Happy Birthday, Eddie!"

Eddie laughed, shaking his head to get some of the confetti off of it.

"Thanks, guys," he said. "I'm old."

"Nah, you're just finally catching up with the rest of us," Adam said cheerfully.

"You're still the baby of the group," Zak continued cheekily, slinging an arm around Eddie's shoulders and leading him towards the little bundle of presents on top of the piano. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Guys, you didn't have to –" he started, but stopped at a stern look from Finea.

"We know that, Ed," she said firmly, smiling. "But we can if we want to, okay?"

Eddie grinned and nodded.

Present-opening took up a fair amount of time, but Eddie did notice that all of them had been wrapped fairly loosely so as to make it easier for him to open them with his still awkward and weak fingers. He ignored the piano as best he could while thanking everyone; he did not need another reminder, on today of all days, that his hands were not strong enough to even lift the lid, let alone play properly.

Then all the presents were done, and the group was talking and giggling until Joe coughed.

"So," he said, aware of everyone watching him curiously, "I've been doing a bit of fiddling around."

Eddie glanced at the others; they did not seem to know what Joe was talking about either. Joe continued.

"And I don't know if it's going to work, but I think it's worth trying," he said. He looked at Eddie. "Ed, come over here?"

Eddie followed him until the two of them were standing by the closed piano. Joe nodded to himself, and then looked at Eddie.

"Eddie, would you open the lid for me please?"

Eddie looked at him, frowning, uncertain. The others had gone very quiet.

"Joe, you know I –" Joe waved him off.

"I know. Try it anyway? For me?" he asked. Eddie swallowed, then shrugged. Reaching out his two hands, he carefully worked his still-sore fingers under the rim of the lid and lifted – and the lid came up easily, resting upright like it was supposed to. Eddie looked at Joe, surprised.

"What did you do?" he asked curiously, now testing the lid in his hands. It was much lighter than it should have been.

"I took the old one off and made another hollow one out of lighter wood," Joe explained, smiling. "I've still got the old one at home, if you want me to put it back on any time." Eddie nodded, pleased, but Joe was not finished.

"Have a seat," Joe said quietly, nodding to the piano stool. Eddie sat down, uncertain again, and rested his fingers on the keys out of habit.

"Have a go?"

Eddie took his fingers off the keys, leaning slightly away and shaking his head.

"Joe, I can't. You know I can't. I –"

Again Joe interrupted him.

"Just try. Please."

It took longer for Eddie to decide this time, but eventually he placed his fingers in their places and after a reluctant pause, began to play.

The notes were slippery at first; there was something odd about the way the keys were moving that Eddie could not quite pin down, but they responded under his fingers and so he adapted to the change without really thinking about it. The piece he played was short and relatively simple, and there were a few shaky moments in it where his fingers would not quite do what he wanted them to – but force of habit and nature helped to compensate. After a minute or so, the piece was finished and Eddie took his hands off of the keys. He felt as though he could not quite breathe; this was impossible, it had to be a trick, it could not be real. He looked up at Joe, who was beaming.

"I fiddled around for ages and ended up mucking around with some of the balances, so that the keys would play a bit lighter," he said. "Like the lid, I can put them back if you need me to, just let me know. I just thought it might help, seeing as you don't really have a problem with dexterity, just with – Eddie? Ed, are you okay?"

Joe sat down on the edge of the piano stool next to Eddie, concerned; because Eddie's eyes had gone very glassy and wide, and he seemed to be shaking slightly.

"Eddie?" Joe said softly, putting a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder. This seemed to wake him up slightly; he blinked a few times and swallowed before he nodded mutely. After a moment he spoke.

"Yeah; yes, I'm… I'm… thank you. Thank you." Eddie's smile was watery and Joe realised that he had overwhelmed the younger man. He carefully pulled him into a hug and held him.

"I'm sorry, I'm being," Eddie sniffed a little, "stupid, this is _brilliant_…" Joe smiled.

"It's okay, Eddie. I should have warned you," he said to Eddie's shoulder. Zak, who had left the room briefly, came back in, and Joe heard the sound of the kettle beginning to boil in the green room.

It was a few minutes before Eddie was completely calm again, and he was embarrassed about his reaction for some time after. So they changed the subject. But Eddie seemed, under his shakiness, to be the happiest person in the room that afternoon – and when Joe looked back, he would point to this moment as being one he was most proud of.

x

Two months passed in a flurry of late night secret rehearsals, repaired instruments and the careful laying of plans. Zak had barely enough time to register the days, though there was one thing he was grateful for: he spent most of them in Eddie's company. The pianist had now written and completed fourteen new songs, and Zak had helped him transcribe them to the computer screen so that they could be clearly read by the rest of the band. Eddie's energy was feverish and his sleep fitful, but he wouldn't let anyone stop him from working. Zak realised after he had nagged Eddie about getting more rest for the umpteenth time that the work was the only way Eddie was handling what had happened. Zak let the matter drop, hoping that Phoenix Rising – as they had nicknamed their project – if successful would be enough to get Eddie back the way he had been.


	3. Review Response

October 2030

"Liz, have we got the stuff ready for the weekend?" Dave called across the hall.

"Yeah, I think so," she replied, rummaging through the cardboard box. "We might want to see if we can get any more fake blood, though."

It was five days before Hallowe'en and they had finally managed to find the box of old costumes from previous years.

"I'll add it to the list," Dave said, grinning.

"What, the one we're giving to Casper?" Liz asked, raising her eyebrows. She had short purple hair reaching to just below her right ear, with a fringe that was swept sideways.

"That's the one. The things we want to spend our Christmas budget on: a Jacuzzi, a sports car, our own personal helicopter…"

"…a pet chimpanzee, a private island, a rocket ship…" Liz joined in, trying not to giggle.

"What's this?"

The door had opened and a young man walked in, pen out and held over a tatty notebook already full of tiny, scribbled figures and complex adding up. The other two burst out laughing and he just looked at them, realising the joke had gone over his head but grinning anyway.

"Can we get any more fake blood, Cas?" Liz asked. "The stuff from last year has gone all weird and mouldy."

Casper came over to her and looked at it.

"Yeah, I think so. It depends on how many kids we've got for the night, how much food we're getting in…"

"And by food, I assume you mean sweets?" Dave called. Casper nodded with a smile.

"Yep, absolutely," he answered. He flipped to a slightly less full page in his notebook and added 'fake blood (?)' to the list.

"We'll need spider webs as well," Liz pointed out. "They went down really well last year."

Casper bit his lip. Liz looked at him.

"Not doable?" she asked.

"It should be," Casper said. "I'm just aware that the stuff from last year was one use only. I'm going to try and find some stuff that'll last for more than one Hallowe'en, so it depends on whether or not I find it."

Liz nodded. This time of year was always difficult for funds; themed decorations and the like for Hallowe'en and Christmas needed to vary to a certain extent to keep the interest up, and that cost money. But they got a lot of donations around Christmas time, too, so it normally balanced out in the end.

"I think for next year we need to try and get hold of Christmas and Hallowe'en stuff in May or something," Dave suggested. "It'll be going cheaper."

Casper nodded in agreement and made a note of it. Then he closed the notebook and put his pen in his pocket, sitting down on a nearby chair and relaxing back, fighting a yawn.

"I am –" he started to say, but the yawn won. "I am," he started again, "absolutely _knackered_."

"You've been working too much," said Liz. "Again." She reinforced this by staring at him disapprovingly. Casper looked repentant for a moment, but when Liz turned to move the cardboard box he rolled his eyes jokingly. Dave laughed, and Liz turned back and stuck her tongue out at him.

"What are we doing about dinner tonight?" Liz asked. Casper shrugged.

"I'll go out and get us some fish and chips if you fancy it," he suggested. The other two agreed and a few minutes later Casper was outside in the cold, walking briskly with his thin jacket done up to his chin, his hands shoved in his pockets.

He aimed for the fish and chips place around the corner, but it was closed for refurbishment, as Casper remembered on approach. He groaned in annoyance. Where was the next closest one?

He decided to find it and get something from there instead, so he changed direction and headed back up the street passing _The Friendly Ghost _and turning left at the crossroads. He had nearly reached it – it was only on the parallel street – and was cutting through a little alleyway that joined the two streets together when someone stepped out from behind the recycling bins in front of him. They stood, silhouetted by the streetlight behind them, and Casper decided he could go around the long way. He turned and started to walk back, but two more figures were at the entrance to the alley that he had come from. Casper hesitated, uncertain. It could be nothing. Coincidence.

The sceptical part of his mind that was used to keeping him alive pointed out that this was extremely unlikely. _Phone!_ it said. _Call Liz, tell her where you are! _

He reached into his pocket and took it out, trying to look casual. Nonchalantly, he thumbed through the contacts until he hit Liz's name, and pressed the call button. He raised the phone to his ear. It rang once.

Then again.

Then a third time.

Just as Casper felt the edges of fear approaching, he heard the click as she picked up.

"Casper?" she asked.

He was about to respond when something hit him around the back of the head. He fell to his knees, the phone skidding away across the rough surface, screen still lit up, out of reach. He barely had time to recover from that and register that the three figures were now very, very close before a foot lashed out, catching him hard in the stomach.

The next few minutes were not the most painful in Casper's life, but they came fairly close. After the three muggers had left, taking Casper's wallet and phone with them, he lay on his side, arm at an unpleasant angle, lip bleeding and head spinning. Trying to focus as the rain started to fall, Casper called out, as loud as he could manage with the pain in his ribs. 'Help' seemed a good, logical way to go, and he was thankful that within a few minutes he heard voices from not too far away. He raised his voice even more, determined to be heard but scared to move for fear of aggravating his arm, which hurt violently as it was partially crushed under his torso.

After a few more minutes the voices faded away again. No one had heard him, or if they had they had ignored him. Casper closed his eyes in despair but then opened them again quickly. He didn't want to pass out here; it was freezing and dark and there was a reasonable chance that he wouldn't be stumbled upon for hours.

He took as deep a breath as he could bear and called out again and again. _Someone will hear. Someone will come. Of course they will…_

It was fifteen more minutes before he heard footsteps in the alleyway, by which point he was soaked through to the bone.

"I know it's late, sweetheart, but I'm not far from home, I'll just – oh my god!"

The woman rushed over towards him and crouched down carefully, her umbrella in one hand, phone in the other, bag slung over her shoulder. She looked at Casper, who tried not to cough as he spoke.

"Ambulance… please…" he croaked out, wincing as the pain in his ribs flared up again. She nodded slowly, then blinked as if realising the emergency.

"Sorry, sweetie. I'm fine, but I've got to go. I'll call you back later." She hung up without waiting for a response and dialled again. Three digits, Casper counted. Nine-nine-nine.

The ambulance arrived within minutes – or possibly hours. Casper wasn't entirely sure, because through the dizziness sweeping across his mind it was difficult to judge. But then there were sirens in the distance, and then the sound of a vehicle backing part of the way up to the entrance of the alleyway. Casper smiled in relief as he heard practised voices and steady footsteps. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the face of a young paramedic leaning over him with dusty brown hair and a reassuring smile. _And nice eyes,_ Casper thought vaguely. _Very nice eyes…_

x

The day of _Review_ dawned clear and cool. By evening the venue was flooded with guests, press and performers. Sitting back in their comfortable seats, they watched those musicians who had just started to draw attention to themselves give all they could on the stage, knowing that a favourable report now would do them more good than just regular publicity. There were the new acts, nervous but determined; the returning acts promising change or more; and a few old favourites who were showing off their plans for the year.

Members of Ginny's old group, Mixed Blood, were scattered around the audience. Jack and Midge settled into their seats, flicking through their programmes. Ginny and Harry were a few rows over, and Chris, Jamie and Andy and his family sat in the row in front of Jack. The others hadn't made it – Piper had a family event she couldn't miss, and Elsie and Kelsie were in Spain for a month.

Looking at the programme, it didn't seem that exciting. Jack was used to seeing unfamiliar names on the list, but they were normally mixed in with a few people he'd heard of through the grapevine. This time there wasn't really anyone – and there was actually one less group than expected, Jack realised. He recounted, checking. Nope, there was definitely one missing. _Review_ always had twenty groups, performing for maybe four or five minutes each. This time there were only nineteen. Jack reached forward and tapped Jamie gently on the head with the programme. Jamie turned.

"What?"

"There's someone missing," Jack said. "In the programme."

Jamie consulted his own.

"Nah," he said. "They've just got one less than usual, that's all." This didn't seem to satisfy Jack. Jamie laughed.

"You're such a conspiracy nut," he teased. Jack stuck his tongue out in response, and they both fell silent as the lights went down.

The show was good but not exceptional, Jack had decided by the interval, sipping his drink. There was some promise there, maybe, but nothing that had particularly piqued his interest. Not that it was his interest that was important, but… Jack gazed around the room, letting his thoughts wander aimlessly. The twenty minute interval was over quickly, and the rest of the performances followed in much the same fashion. Jack tried not to fidget too much, knowing it would annoy Midge.

Finally, their host stepped onto a corner of the stage to conclude the evening. A fifty-something man in an expensive suit, he smiled expansively at the audience before he spoke.

"Now, no doubt a few of you have noticed a slight difference in our programme from previous years – I've had several guests commenting that we're one act short!" There was a short pause while the audience considered this. Jack gave the back of Jamie's chair a good kick. Jamie turned just enough to pull a silly scowling face before their host continued.

"This is not, fortunately enough, due to an error in the programmes you hold, but actually due to a truly exciting event taking place in the next week. The group that you're about to see is holding a set of shows next week – the first as they are now arranged."

Jack frowned a little. That made it sound like they'd been heard of before. But surely putting an already-known band on their programme would have been good for _Review_ ticket sales?

"I, along with the rest of the world, believed that we had seen the last from this group of young people; but I, as I expect you will be, was delighted to hear of their return." And with a final flourish, he made his announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I take great pleasure in reintroducing – Phoenix!"

x

"Well, that was one hell of an evening," Jamie said. He was sitting on an armchair in Midge and Jack's place, an hour after the end of _Review_.

"Can you believe it, though?" Midge asked. "I can't, I'm still in shock."

Jack laughed.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he agreed. "I don't think I've ever seen such a reaction."

Phoenix's surprise return had stunned everyone, and although they had disappeared abruptly at the end of their song – which was new, Jack noted – they had stayed just long enough to announce that they would be performing next week, and that the details were on their website. This announcement next to their reappearance had had journalists and critics going mad. There had been a flurry of questions thrown at everyone else there, particularly Mixed Blood. Did they know Phoenix was returning? Had they heard anything about these performances? What did they think of Phoenix's music?

To which the answers were simple: no, no and fantastic.

"Did you ask Ginny, Midge?" Jamie asked. Midge nodded.

"She said she'd hardly seen Eddie around these last few months. She thought he'd found some kind of project, but she didn't think of this…" Midge trailed off, and shrugged. "Even Harry said he had no idea."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"_Harry_ didn't know?" he asked sceptically. "That's like saying… well, what was he doing, sitting curled up with his hands over his ears and his eyes shut?" Jamie and Midge laughed.

"I doubt Harry really didn't know – perhaps he just decided to let Eddie keep his secrets," said Midge. All three knew that the eldest Potter had an uncanny knack for gaining information, particularly regarding things he wasn't meant to know about.

"I'd better head home," Jamie said, standing up and stretching his arms. "I'll have to be up early tomorrow to pick up tickets for their concert online – I've got a funny feeling they're going to go damn fast…"

x

Casper came to in a hospital room, pale and calm and warm, with his left arm in plaster resting on top of the covers. Fuzzily, he turned his head; the room was empty, but on the bedside cabinet there was a magazine and a half-eaten packet of biscuits, so he decided he probably did have company somewhere. This amount of thought seemed about enough, so he closed his eyes again and sank back into sleep.


	4. False Impressions

The day after the first Phoenix Rising concert, the group were all in the Theatre early, sitting quietly in chairs, pretending to read a book or text someone else, but all waiting for Sam to get back from the newsagent's.

"Where's Joe?" Adam asked, glancing around curiously.

"He's at work," Zak replied. "You know he took the afternoon off when his cousin was in hospital, he had to switch that one around with this morning to get it."

Adam nodded and silence resumed.

When the downstairs door banged and they heard running footsteps on the staircase, they all looked up at the door, nervous. The door to the room opened, and Sam came in, grinning triumphantly as he threw a pile of magazines and newspapers down on the table.

"We did it!" he shouted joyfully. "Front pages everywhere, and all the reviews I can see look brilliant!"

The others flooded towards the table and started pouring over the different publications, exclaiming over every mention delightedly.

x

The next time Casper woke up, it was to the last rays of light filtering through the blinds and onto his bed. He swallowed and fidgeted, flexing a few muscles groggily.

"Cas?"

Casper turned his head. Liz was sitting next to his bed, leaning forward, one hand resting on the edge of the covers. He smiled slowly.

"I'm here…" he said, his voice coming out scratchy from underuse. She smiled back at him.

"Just about," she agreed. "How are you feeling?"

Casper thought about this for a minute.

"Tired," he concluded. "But there's not so much pain now, so that's good."

Liz nodded.

"Joe's been in to see you, and Dave as well," she said. "Joe says he'll come and see you again when he's got a second."

"Okay," Casper said, pleased that he hadn't been ignored but also annoyed that he'd missed his cousin. He hadn't seen Joe in a while – not since Henry had been promoted at work.

"They found one of the guys that got you," she said. Casper frowned, puzzled.

"But how did they know that…?"

"CCTV," Liz explained. "Whole thing was caught on a security camera, though no one was watching it at the time."

Casper nodded, but only once – his head still felt sore and swollen.

"They could only see one of their faces, but they think he'll give up the other two soon."

"Mm," replied Casper. Liz smiled.

"You'll be alright, Casper. Looks like you'll be missing Hallowe'en, though," she said.

"What day is it?" he asked.

"Saturday," answered Liz. "They think you'll be okay to come home tomorrow morning, but you're supposed to be getting lots of rest, so you can watch the festivities, but I'm not letting you rush around on your feet for the next few days."

Casper attempted to look innocent.

"Liz, would I?"

"Yes, Casper, you would," she said sternly, but there was a smile playing on her lips. She leant over and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Get some sleep, if you're so tired," she said. "Food should turn up in about half an hour, do you want me to give you a nudge?"

"Please," Casper said, realising how hungry he was. He closed his eyes anyway, just to rest them…

x

It was nice to have a bit of a break, Casper thought a few days later, sitting in one of the armchairs in the corner watching the younger boys play football across the hall. Couldn't go on much longer, of course; he had to sort out the month end accounts, go through the Christmas budget which he hadn't finished, organise which days the club would be open during the Christmas holidays, decide if they'd be doing a New Year's party, work out how were they going to organise it if they did… and so the list went on. Casper cheered as one of the boys scored, the foam ball bouncing off of the back wall between the two chairs being used as goalposts.

Liz had squirrelled his notebook away somewhere to stop him from working, but he was fairly certain he knew where she had hidden it. He'd go and get it tomorrow morning and start working again, although running around would be a week or so yet.

His phone, thankfully recovered from the muggers, rang noisily from the other side of the room. Dave picked it up.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, and then he started to walk towards Casper.

"It's Joe, Cas," he said, passing Casper the phone. Casper took it.

"Hey, you!" he said, grinning.

"Hey Casper," said Joe from the other end. "Sorry I haven't caught you, it's been a bit mad with Henry's new job and half a dozen other things. I did come and see you at the hospital!"

"It's okay," Casper reassured him. "Coming to see us soon, though?"

"I was going to drop 'round this afternoon," Joe said, "if that's alright?"

"Sure," said Casper. "What time?"

"Oh, about twenty-past five? I finish work at five and it'll take me a little while to get to yours."

"Okay," Casper said. "I'll see you then, then."

"Yep. Speak to you later."

"Bye," Casper finished. He heard Joe's parting reply before ending the call and putting the phone down on the arm of the chair.

"Joe coming over?" Liz asked as she passed behind him, having overheard part of the conversation. Casper nodded.

"Twenty-past five-ish," he said. He rubbed his eyes and tried to suppress a yawn – it was only midday, so Joe had probably been on his lunch break when he called. Liz saw.

"Cup of tea?" she suggested knowingly.

"Coffee?" asked Casper hopefully, knowing the answer.

"Casper, it's not even one yet, so no." Liz grinned. "I tell you what, though – I'll make sandwiches, I was thinking of doing some anyway."

Casper nodded again.

"Thanks, Liz."

"Anytime."

x

It was the Friday of the next week, and Casper was back on duty as host, owner and unofficial problem-solver. He weaved through the crowd, his head moving gently to the beat as he made his way over to the bar. He squeezed past a group of teenagers and ducked under the counter to reappear on the other side, next to Dave.

"Hey, everything okay?" he asked. Dave had gestured for some help when he'd been on the other side of the room talking to some of the regulars.

"Need an extra pair of hands," Dave said, trying to slow the group at the bar down so that he could get them what they wanted. Casper nodded and set to work. After a few minutes of slightly frantic drinks-pouring, Casper turned to the next person at the bar.

"Can I help?" he asked. The young man smiled at him.

"Just a beer, please," he said, already reaching into his pocket for money. Casper got it for him. As he was handing over his change, Casper looked at him thoughtfully.

"Weird question – do I know you from somewhere?" he asked curiously. "You look kind of familiar, but I can't pin it down." The man smiled.

"I'm Seth," he said, reaching a hand over the bar to shake Casper's. "Seth Baines. We have met before, very briefly, but we never really got introduced…" Casper thought for a moment longer before he realised.

"Paramedic?" he said, pleased that he had remembered. Seth nodded.

"How are you doing, anyway?" he asked curiously.

Casper raised his plastered arm and shrugged.

"Not so bad," he said. "The cast comes off in a couple of weeks, so it'll be easier then."

They chatted for a few minutes in between Casper serving other customers. From the other side of the room, Gina nudged Liz gently.

"Looks like Casper's found a new interest," she said teasingly, and the girls around her laughed. Liz laughed with them, but her eyes were on Casper and Seth, calculating, measuring, wondering. Liz had known Casper a long time, and she knew him well enough to read his emotions even when he was doing a good job of hiding them.

"Isn't that guy a bit… clean-cut for Casper?" Daisy asked, craning to see.

"Daisy! Casper can have clean-cut if he wants," Gina said.

"Casper can usually have whoever he wants," Daisy countered back, prompting more giggles.

"Who is that, anyway?" someone else asked curiously. Liz shook her head.

"Don't know."

x

By the end of the evening, Casper was tired but pleased. Closing time was two o'clock in the morning, and by half-two he was in bed, sleeping soundly.

The next day he was standing and chatting to Liz, waiting for the lunchtime rush of kids, when she changed the subject abruptly.

"Nice evening last night?" she asked. Casper nodded.

"As usual," he said, wondering where this was going.

"You seemed pretty distracted by that guy you were talking to," Liz said, leaning against the wall and watching Casper closely. Casper took a moment to think, and then let a casual smile show on his face.

"Well, you know me…" he said jokingly. "Can't resist a pretty face." _Not that Seth is _pretty_, exactly,_ he thought, _but those eyes and the way he tilts his head to one side when he laughs…_

"I just wondered; he just didn't seem your type, is all," said Liz, jerking Casper out of his thoughts. He shrugged.

"It's nothing," he said. "Don't get too excited!"

"Me? Huh, in your dreams," Liz responded teasingly. Casper laughed, but behind that he wondered whether Liz was right. Talking to Seth had been… nice. Really nice, even. And Casper didn't get a lot of that, and well…

He shook his head and tried to concentrate on sorting out lunch.

x

Seth wasn't there that evening, nor the next, nor the one after. Casper tried to pretend he didn't care.

The following Tuesday, however, Casper came in from the back room where he had been checking how many boxes of crisps they had left to see Seth Baines leaning up against the wall, his arms folded. He had come alone again, Casper noted. He walked over and joined him.

"Hey," he said. Seth looked around and smiled genuinely on seeing him.

"Good to see you," he said.

"And you," Casper replied. There was a moment of silence.

"How's the arm?" Seth asked.

"Oh, alright," said Casper, shrugging. "A bit awkward, but it could've been worse."

There was another long moment where neither of them spoke. Casper felt uncharacteristically awkward, mostly because a small part of his mind was wondering whether this was what it was like to have a crush on someone.

"Been busy?" he finally asked. "Haven't seen you for a while." _Only two days, you idiot! He's going to think you're obsessed! _Casper's mind screamed at him.

Seth didn't seem to worry about it, just nodded.

"My shifts change so that I don't have to be completely nocturnal – I was on late shifts the last couple of days," he explained. Then, just when Casper thought he'd gotten away from it…

"Why, did you miss me?" Seth added jokingly. Casper felt a blush – a _blush! _How old was he, eleven? – rising and fought to stay casual. He shrugged.

"Just wondered."

Fortunately, they managed to slip into some casual conversation then about jobs and how they had chosen them. Casper learned that Seth had been a paramedic for five years now, based at the Royal Hope Hospital.

"I got my degree at King's, so I haven't really lived outside London," Seth explained. "What about you? How did you end up working here?"

Casper paused.

"Oh, I used to live… around here, before I worked here, and the opportunity just came up," he said lightly. "I love the job, wouldn't do anything else." Casper smiled, hoping the sincerity in the latter would stop Seth from questioning the former. He was right, and the conversation moved to other matters.

Seth was at The Friendly Ghost on the Thursday night as well, and the Friday. The Saturday night was supposedly Casper's night off – the idea was that he took a break, but as he usually spent it the same way he spent most nights, it was rather superfluous. But this Saturday, he thought as he walked out of The Friendly Ghost with Seth and out into the cold air, he was very, very glad of it. They made their way along the pavements, their breath making mist.

About fifteen minutes into their half-hour walk, Casper realised that his hand had somehow managed to wind itself into Seth's. He didn't take it away.

x

When they reached Seth's flat, Casper pulled off his trainers, soaked from walking through puddles. Within five minutes he had completely forgotten about them.

x

Casper woke up in the early hours of the morning, the only light coming from a streetlamp a fair distance away. He lay there for a few minutes in darkness, his eyes open; and then he sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Seth's sleep. Silently, he pulled his clothes back on, checked that his phone and wallet were still in the pockets and hadn't fallen on the floor somewhere, retrieved his now merely moist trainers from the living room and left without looking back. The door closed with a quiet click behind him.


	5. Poisoned Words

The next evening, Casper spotted Marathon and Kay with a bunch of their friends, and went over to join them. When Seth walked in he didn't notice – or, at least, that's what he would tell himself later. He certainly didn't realise that Seth would have seen him put his unbroken arm around Marathon flirtatiously.

When he checked later, Seth wasn't there.

Casper left with Marathon a couple of hours later, and came back after an hour and a half expecting everything to be quiet and dark, as usual. Instead, Liz was sitting in the kitchen with a coffee, brow furrowing as she read the newspaper.

"Hey," he said, going over to the sink for a glass of water to take back to his room.

"Oh, hello Casper," she said. She watched him as he filled a glass at the tap with his unbroken arm, and drank from it.

"What are you doing up so late?" he asked Liz curiously. She shrugged.

"Oh, not much."

Casper was about to leave when she spoke again.

"I was just wondering when you would be back; obviously you didn't go off with Seth tonight, I suppose he's last week's news already?" Casper almost flinched at the last few words, and hoped she hadn't noticed. He shrugged.

"Why do you ask?" he asked.

"Just wondered," she replied. This meant nothing to her, Casper realised; she genuinely didn't mind either way. "After all, it seemed like he didn't know that, the way he looked when he saw you with Marathon and Kay last night."

Casper, to his surprise, had to swallow his anger at this.

"I didn't notice anything," he said instead. "Sure you weren't imagining it?"

There was a clunk as she put her coffee cup down on the table. Casper swallowed.

"Maybe. Anyway, he didn't seem really your type – a bit to clean cut for you!" She flashed him a teasing smile and left to go to bed.

Casper stood alone in the kitchen for a long while afterwards.

x

Seth stayed in the next night. He was just trying to convince himself that he should go to bed instead of watching a film, when he heard a knock on the door. He put down the remote control and walked over to the door, unlatching it easily. He swung it open.

Casper was standing on the doorstep.

Seth very nearly swung the door closed again, but something about Casper's expression made him hesitate. He sighed, and, trying to maintain at least a semblance of carelessness, lent against the doorframe.

"What do you want, Casper?" he asked coolly, not quite meeting his eyes. Casper took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before speaking.

"I came to apologise," he said.

"Oh?" Seth replied, raising his eyebrows. Casper gave a half-nod, his eyes on Seth's who reluctantly met them.

"I'm sorry, Seth," Casper said calmly, honestly. Seth wanted to find some retort, but Casper seemed to be genuine.

"Well, I'm sorry too," he said, the words coming out slightly harsher than he had intended them to, "so I suppose that makes us even."

Casper frowned slightly.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked.

"Me?" Seth replied as coolly as he could, hoping that the fact that he was fighting not to just slam the door, go into his room and cry like a six-year-old wouldn't show on his face. "I'm sorry for what happened that night – it was as much my responsibility as it was yours." Casper didn't reply, watching Seth a little curiously.

"What about you, then?" Seth asked. He knew he was being cruel now, but he couldn't quite stop himself. "What did you come to apologise for if it wasn't for that?"

"I came to apologise for leaving you," Casper said quietly, "and for flirting with Marathon when I knew you were watching."

The simple, honest way that he said it made Seth want to give in, but he rallied himself.

"Not for sleeping with me?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Casper looked at him for a moment or two, that tiny crease on his forehead as he thought before he answered.

"No," he said. "That was… you were… _are_… a great guy, and I don't regret that. But I… shouldn't have let it end that way."

"Oh?" Seth said again, his anger fading slightly. "And how should you have 'let' it end?" The inverted commas were clearly audible.

"I shouldn't have," Casper said softly. "And for that, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't stay."

There was a pause.

"Why didn't you?" Seth asked, his curiosity getting the better of him despite his anger. Casper seemed to genuinely think about this for a minute, and then he gave a small shrug. Seth noticed that there was a small bruise on the left side of his chin that had not been there the other day.

"I suppose I was…in denial?" Casper gave a faint, self-deprecating smile that took away Seth's automatic irritation at the cliché.

This wasn't the answer Seth had been expecting.

"Why?" he asked. Casper tipped his head to one side slightly, as if trying to judge how Seth would react.

"I knew you… well, I knew you liked me," he said, wincing slightly as though he had said something less than courteous. Seth tried not to blush. _It's not past tense yet, _he thought. Casper continued.

"I knew that you would be expecting more than just, well," here Casper shrugged again, and his expression managed to make Seth crack a faint smile of his own, "but I pretended I didn't. I'm… I suppose you could say that I'm used to… less than long-term arrangements. Considerably less. I should have taken your feelings into account." There was another pause. Seth stopped leaning on the doorframe and opened the door more.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked. Casper looked up at him, surprised but grateful, before he entered. The flat had hardly changed – Casper didn't quite know why he had expected it to have, he'd been there only the day before yesterday – and as Casper came in Seth closed the door behind him.

They were sitting on the sofa an hour later, not really watching some sitcom rerun on the television. After a while, just like it had two days before, Seth's hand found its way into Casper's. Casper looked at him, warily.

"What do you want?" Seth asked, quietly. "From this, from us, if there is an 'us'…"

Casper was quiet for a minute. Then, cautiously, he met Seth's eyes and spoke.

"I like the sound of an 'us'," he said carefully, waiting, "if you do."

There was a moment's stillness, and then Seth leant forward and kissed him, gently, hesitantly.

x

"So, how did you end up working at this place?" Seth asked as they stood leaning against the bar in The Friendly Ghost the following night.

"Running," Casper corrected him gently, smiling in a way that was not in the least boastful.

"Running it?" Seth asked, surprised, "Wow. Okay, so how did you end up running this place?"

Casper pushed himself away from the bar.

"Come and see," he said. Seth followed him to the main entrance of the club, where there was a large display board with 'The Friendly Ghost' written along the top in large letters. Beneath it was some text and a photograph. Seth began to read.

_This warehouse (as it previously was) belonged to Ms Jane Winterfields, a successful business woman who owned a great deal of property. One November afternoon, having shown a prospective buyer around the warehouse that morning, Ms Winterfields realised she had left her bag here. She returned, only to discover that because of the faulty lock on the back door, three teenagers were living rough under the stairwell, having clearly hidden during her previous visit. Instead of asking them to leave, she only asked that they break no laws under her roof – otherwise, they could stay._

_Over the next few days, Ms Winterfields visited them several times. She asked them about their lives, about how they had reached this point, but she did not report them to the police because she feared they would disappear. _

_She bought them crisps and sweets in large quantities, very cheaply, and taught them how to sell them for slightly more money. They returned to her what she had paid, but the profits they kept. Slowly, this built up to a substantial amount. Ms Winterfields wanted to do more for the three of them and people like them, but she had little time to do so. _

_Therefore, after a long conversation with the three of them, she arranged to have one half of the building made into a place for people to stay – a hostel – and the other half into a place for people to socialise and come out of the cold._

_Originally this half of The Friendly Ghost was a youth club. But as funds began to come in from various supportive sources, this area was remade as a night club, the profits from which fund the hostel behind it. _

_The entire building began in the name of the eldest of the three, David Feller, but came under the ownership of Casper Livingston on his eighteenth birthday. The third and youngest member of their group was Elizabeth Becker. Dave, Liz and Casper still live and work in this hostel and club – you might see them around! _

_Thanks for reading our story – and feel free to donate in any of the orange buckets around the rooms. Thank you!_

Underneath this story, Seth saw a bright photograph of three people in their late teens – Casper, Liz and Dave – standing outside the main doors, grinning at the camera, their arms around each other's necks.

"Wow," he said again to Casper, who was leaning against the wall beside the board. "That's a pretty powerful story."

Casper laughed.

"It's true," he said, shrugging, "can't do much better than that." Seth laughed as well.

"Fair point."

They wandered back into the main area, heading vaguely towards the comfy chairs in one corner.

"So," Seth said, "I bet you get fed up of explaining that story to everyone who asks, right? Hence the big board."

Casper nodded.

"It's not like I mind talking about it," he said, "more that when you've told the same story over a hundred times you start getting the urge to play around with it and see how much people believe you." He grinned mischievously and Seth laughed again.

"If you don't mind me asking," Seth said after a few minutes, "how… how did you, um…" He frowned, not sure how to phrase his question without being rude. Casper seemed to know what he had intended to ask, though.

"How did I end up living rough?" he suggested. Seth nodded.

"Sorry, it's not really any of my business, I was just curious," Seth said apologetically. Casper shook his head.

"It's fine, I don't mind," he replied, thinking. "Well, in a nutshell," he shrugged, "my mum kicked me out of the house."

"Why?" Seth asked, curious, and surprised at Casper's light-hearted tone.

"Oh, I told her I was gay," he said. "I guess she didn't approve." He shrugged again and gave a wry smile, and Seth got the impression that this too was something that Casper had had to explain many, many times.

"How old were you?" Seth asked.

"I was thirteen and a bit," Casper said. "I'd had my birthday a few of months before."

Seth was glad that he had spent years learning how to remain professional in an emergency, because it helped him to keep the shock from his expression now.

"Do you see any of your family at all?" Seth asked a minute or so later when the two of them finally found an empty set of chairs and sat down at them. Casper shook his head.

"Not my immediate family," he said. "I've got a cousin, Joe – younger cousin – who got back in touch a few years ago, and we see each other pretty often, especially now he lives in London with his boyfriend, Henry." Seth nodded. This new picture of Casper was startling – but it made a surprising amount of sense. Casper was very good as host at the club, because he was sociable; he made people feel at home. But although Seth had never seen him in the hostel, the one or two people he'd spoken to when he'd been waiting to meet Casper earlier had said how successful the hostel was, and that it was mainly down to Casper, who dedicated hours of his time to making it a welcoming place.

_He looks after people like him_, Seth thought. _No wonder he's good at it, he knows exactly what they've been through._

They spent the rest of the evening talking. Seth felt like he was learning a lot. This Casper was different from the one who had gone home with him several days ago – but still, somehow, the same person. There had been a lightness there the first time, a lack of weight that Seth had previously attributed to just Casper's personality, but now realised had been because Casper had not attached any emotional weight to their conversation. Now he seemed slightly more serious and sincere, and Seth appreciated it. Seth told Casper about his parents, his upbringing, his school, university, and life as a paramedic. Casper described running the hostel and the club, working side by side with social services and the police on occasion, how The Friendly Ghost had got its name…

"I suppose you can guess why it's called that," Casper said dryly. Seth frowned for a second, confused, before something clicked.

"Casper the Friendly Ghost?" he asked, fighting back laughter. His amusement must have shown clearly on his face, because Casper gave a short laugh in response, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, like I've never heard that joke before," he said. "Liz and Dave decided we should name it that, because I was the one in charge. They used to call me ghost when we were younger anyway, so it wasn't exactly a great leap."

Seth laughed.

x

Phoenix really was going up in the world, Zak decided, straightening the collar of his shirt in the mirror. Admittedly tonight was not a huge event, but several notable names in the music industry would be there. It was set to be an evening of socialising and making valuable connections.

Of course, Eddie wasn't looking forward to it. Zak knew that the younger man would much prefer to be holed up in his flat writing music, but after much cajoling and the promise that Zak would be there too he had finally agreed to go.

An hour and a half later, and everything was going as expected. Eddie had found a fellow semi-recluse, and the two of them were deep in a discussion presumably about the many better things to do than attend parties. Zak had managed brief conversations with almost everyone, and had been delighted to discover that many of them held _Phoenix _in good regard. He was currently standing with several others listening to some reasonably well-known television composer discuss his job, and glancing over to Eddie from time to time. Eddie's companion had moved on now, but Eddie seemed quite content leaning against the wall with his glance of orange juice, observing the rest of the room. Zak caught his eye and waggled his eyebrows at him comically. Eddie grinned. Then a passing waiter offered Eddie a refill, and Zak's attention was once again drawn away by the verbose composer.

"And of course, there's just deadline after deadline –"

Zak glanced over towards Eddie again, who was sipping his orange juice and frowning. _Frowning?_

"But don't get me wrong, I love a challenge. Why, back in my day –"

A small-time radio presenter that Zak had encountered earlier approached Eddie and introduced himself. Eddie didn't reply, his expression worried, uncertain. Zak moved to excuse himself from his current group and left more or less unnoticed, walking swiftly across the room. Not swiftly enough, however, to catch Eddie as he swayed and then fell to the floor, his face paper-white, orange juice spilling all over the green carpet.

Zak heard the shocked murmurs and whispers around him as he dropped to Eddie's side.

"Oh my god!"

"What happened, what happened?"

"I'm calling an ambulance!"

Eddie's eyes were still open, but they were unfocused and his breathing was shallow. Zak ignored the panicky woman who was now on the phone to the emergency services, turned so that what he was about to do was not visible, and then reached for Eddie's Weasley Family necklace. He pressed his thumb to the back of it, concentrating. Then he let go, checked Eddie's pulse and faked sending a text.

Katie was there three minutes before the paramedics, and then it was a blur of questions, excuses, and transport to St Mungo's.

Two things stood out to Zak afterwards, though he could not pin down exactly why. Firstly, the confused and almost frightened reaction of the paramedics when Katie had overruled them; and secondly, the way that the short man in a brown suit stood at the back of the room for the duration of the event, staring not at Eddie, but at Zak.


	6. History Awakening

A/N: Warning for bad language in this chapter.

x

"Poor thing," Liz said.

Casper glanced around at her as he buttered his toast. She was sitting at the little table in their kitchenette, eating cereal and reading a magazine.

"Who?" he asked, getting some jam out of the cupboard.

"Eddie Potter – you know, from _Phoenix_," she said. "Someone slipped something in his drink and he's in hospital."

Casper sat down next to her.

"That sounds pretty bad," he said, curious. "Was someone actually trying to knock him off, or was it just … I don't know, some prank that got out of hand?"

Liz shrugged, eyes roaming over the page in the magazine.

"They're not sure," she said. "He's going to be alright, though. They said it was really lucky that Zak was with him because he knew to call his private doctor or something. I just feel sorry for him – for the whole group, really. There was that fire, and now this – and apparently they get loads of hate mail."

"Really?" Casper raised his eyebrows, surprised. _Phoenix_ seemed to be fairly ordinary, as bands went – their music tended to vary a lot in style but from what he knew none of it was particularly offensive or controversial.

Liz just shrugged again, deeply involved in reading, and Casper was distracted by his phone. A message from Seth about meeting up later.

Casper and Seth had quickly developed something of a routine. Seth let Casper know what his schedule was as early as possible, and Casper arranged his shifts to match. That way they could spend much of their free time together. It seemed to work. The first few weeks went well; and then they had been together a month. But, neither of them being that sort of person, the dates passed unremarked upon. They had been together 'a couple of months'; then 'a few months'; then 'a while'; and then, to Casper's surprise as much as Seth's, 'nearly a year'.

Despite organisation, however, Casper's all-but-twenty-four-hour commitment to The Friendly Ghost meant that Seth would often spend his evenings there while Casper was working someone else's shift, as he was on this particularly wintry evening.

"Where's Cas?" Seth asked, mouthing the words rather than trying to shout over the music. Liz shrugged.

"I think he went to get some air," she mouthed back. "Not sure."

Seth nodded his thanks and headed towards the door, thinking he would check outside only quickly – it was snowing out there, and freezing cold at half-past eleven at night. He shivered as he stepped out of the door, nodding briefly at Dave who was on duty as a bouncer with Will.

"Have you seen Cas?" he asked, teeth chattering, wishing that he had grabbed his jacket. Dave shook his head.

"If he came out he would've gone out the back way," he said. Seth nodded.

"Thanks."

Rubbing his hands on his upper arms, Seth made his way around the side of the building, planning on going back in by the back door so as to see if Casper was out there.

"Come on, Casper. _Ghost_…"

Seth stopped in his tracks, listening. He had heard that voice around somewhere before. Wanting to know what was going on but not wanting to interrupt if Casper was trying to talk in private, he hovered for a second. He was thankful for his uncertainty a second later, when he heard something that made him instantly forget about the cold.

"You've never said no to me before."

The voice was seductive, sweet, but there was something unpleasantly tense underneath it; something controlling, angry. Seth made up his mind and stepped around the corner to see that the dead end behind the club was occupied by four people.

There was a skinny girl – woman was probably more accurate – lounging against a side wall, chewing gum and giggling. There was a tall, tough-looking man with his arms folded standing across from her, looking grimly amused. But Seth's focus narrowed immediately to the two people right against the wall that made this alley a dead end.

Casper had his back against the brick wall, and pinning him there was the young man that Seth had vaguely recognised in the club earlier. He had one hand against the wall by Casper's neck and the other was low on Casper's hip. He was leaning against Casper, his lips almost brushing over Casper's neck, and Casper –

For a second Seth thought that Casper was leaning in to the stranger's kiss, but then he saw that Casper looked slightly dazed, slightly unfocussed. _Drunk or drugged, or just a blow to the head?_ Seth's mind asked, but Seth himself was more concerned with the burning anger and fear that had risen in his heart. The words came out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them.

"Leave him alone."

x

"_I got this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading"_

"_Light?"_

Harry smiled faintly to himself, recalling the exchange between his eleven-year-old best friends as he surveyed the pile of parchment on his desk. Some of it was ancient and dry, the occasional sheet was new – but even those were copies of older texts, made when the originals had crumbled to dust despite the preservation spells placed upon them. He leant over the one he'd put aside earlier. It had the most helpful title.

_On Mages_

Occasionally, as he read, the light from the candle was not enough to decipher the writing. Most witches or wizards would have lit their wands; Harry merely flicked flame from nothing to rest on his fingertips and held it close to the parchment. He was not afraid that it would catch light – he did not want it to.

x

"Leave him alone."

All four of them turned the sound of his voice. The skinny woman's eyes went wide and she stopped giggling, but both she and the tough man both still looked for all the world as if this was just light entertainment. The man pinning Casper, however, looked Seth up and down slowly before raising one eyebrow, a mocking expression on his face.

"So this is my replacement, is it?" he said softly. Seth tried to ignore him, but that kind of stare is not so easily disregarded. To see Seth, the man had turned away from Casper – a fact that the slighter man quickly capitalised on and Seth thanked God for Casper's instincts. Casper's luck did not hold, however – as he moved away and along the wall he could not help but move towards a corner, and in his slightly dazed state he stumbled noisily enough to attract attention.

"Marathon," the tough man said, his voice rough. Marathon turned and saw Casper moving away from him, and several things happened very quickly.

Seth took a few steps forward and was met by the tough-looking man, a slip of silver in one hand that made Seth stop. The woman stood up properly and her poise told everyone present that she was prepared to fight. Marathon, meanwhile, had backed Casper into the corner, grabbing the thinner man's wrist and tutting when he tried to push Marathon away.

"Now now, wait your turn," he said, his voice still soft but with a slightly sharper edge to it this time. "I was talking to your friend."

He turned back to see Seth again, but this time kept a tight grip on Casper's wrist as he did so.

"What's your name, then?" he asked, eyes boring holes into Seth, who did not answer as he stared back.

"Charming," Marathon said. "I'm Marathon. That's a nickname of course, I don't give out my real one." He tilted his head on one side. "So I suppose it's not really fair to ask you for yours, is it? Maybe I should give you a nickname too?"

His voice was mocking but curious, and there was the tiniest hint of a grin in his otherwise cool expression. Seth bit down on the impulse to argue back, settling instead for repetition.

"Just leave him alone," he said again, glad that his voice did not shake as he had expected it to.

Marathon gave a short laugh without humour.

"Now why should I do that?" he asked. "Maybe Ghost wants you to stay. I doubt it."

He looked around at Casper, who had pressed himself right into the corner, and then back at Seth. He seemed to be putting two and two together. After a moment, a delighted grin spread across his face, though there was still something dark behind it.

"He hasn't told you, has he?" he asked of Seth, who let his confusion show without meaning to as he replied.

"Told me what?" he asked, his teeth gritted. The wind howled above the brick walls around them; thankfully the snow had stopped falling a minute or so ago. Marathon's grin grew wider. He leant against Casper again, too close and too personal to be comfortable, and Seth began to step forwards but was stopped by the tough-looking man who raised his hand warningly.

"You haven't told him, have you?" Marathon said, loud enough to be heard by Seth, against the side of Casper's face. Casper was right against the wall, and Seth could see him shivering – like Seth, he was still wearing his indoor clothes, without a coat or jacket.

"You haven't told your _boyfriend_ that he's been fucking a whore."

The harsh words cut through the air, and Casper flinched, his eyes focused on the ground before him, one hand grabbing at the wall as though it was holding him up. Maybe it was.

Seth scowled, and he raised his voice.

"You leave him the _hell _alone."

Marathon actually laughed aloud at this.

"What are you going to do about it if I don't?"

His expression became suddenly oddly serious, and he looked at Seth with a humourless smile.

"You don't belong here," he said. "Go back to your milk and cookies. This is not your world."

For a few seconds the tension was so high that Seth could barely breathe, and then it was broken by a shout from the entrance to the alley.

"Oi!"

Seth turned and saw Dave, Liz and Will running towards them. In an instant, Marathon and his two friends had clambered up onto the big recycling bins and pushed themselves over the far wall with three dull thuds. Seth moved to Casper without thinking, but Casper had pushed himself away from the wall and looked surprisingly lucid.

"Cas, are you alright?" Liz asked, her breath making mist in the air. "It took us a while to realise you'd left with Marathon."

"I'm fine," Casper said, a casual grin which seemed slightly more forced than normal. "Mara was just being a git, as usual." He was standing upright with his hands in his jeans pockets, and to glance at him you would think he was fine; but Seth saw the sway before he fell and caught Casper with practised arms.

"Seth, I'm fine, I'm just a bit dizzy," Casper insisted as Seth helped him up and wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. "I'm _fine_, Seth, seriously…"

Seth looked at Liz and Dave – Will had headed back around to the front of the building already – and raised his eyebrows.

"Take him home, Seth," Dave said.

"But I'm _fine_, there's nothing wrong with me – " Casper was silenced by a glare from Liz.

"You're going home and that's final," she said. "We can manage things here tonight, we'll see you in the morning some time."

Casper acquiesced, but still grumbled quietly all the way back to Seth's flat. It was not until they got in and Seth had hung up both of their coats that Casper finally went quiet – at which point Seth decided he preferred the grumbling. Casper was silent as they both got ready for bed, and stayed that way as they laid down. Instead of lying alongside Seth like normal, close and warm, Casper curled up a foot or so away on the double bed, his arms wrapped around his own shoulders and head right on the edge of the pillow.

After lying on his side looking at him for a minute, thinking, Seth scooted over a little way and placed a gentle hand on Casper's shoulder.

"Cas?" he said softly. "Sweetheart, talk to me."

There was no answer for a minute or so, but Seth could be very patient if he needed to be.

"What is it?" Casper's voice was low and had an edge to it that Seth could not identify.

"If I ask you something," Seth said slowly, carefully, "will you give me an honest answer?"

There was another pause. Then Casper gave a one shouldered shrug.

"Are you okay?" Seth asked. Silence followed. This time, Seth could not resist filling it, concern rising in his mind.

"Look, you know I don't care what other people say about you, right?" he said gently, worriedly. "I care about you, and nothing other people say is going to change that…"

Casper said nothing, resolutely silent. But after a minute or two, he rolled over and slowly curled up next to Seth, who wrapped his arms around him, wondering if Casper would ever let him in.

x

_Zak was running. Faster than he had ever run before. And he was confused, he was lost, he didn't know where to go – but then he saw it. A glimpse of white around a corner. He followed it, pushing his muscles as hard as they could go. _

_By the time he had turned the corner it had all but vanished – but there, another corner, another fleeting glimpse! This time it came with the faint sound of a pipe._

_Before, Zak wouldn't have thought it possible, would've thought that he was already going as fast as he could, but even so he sped up. _

_And then everything change. His body was still, now, but he still felt as though he was running. There was a sound from behind him, but he did not – could not – turn around._

_Some small piece of knowledge slipped into the back of his mind. Someone was behind him, but they weren't a threat. On the contrary; they needed protecting. _

_In the corners of his eyes, white flickers danced. For a split second a pipe howled in his ears._

Zak jerked awake and took a moment to adjust to his surroundings. Home. Bed. Not Australia. His own flat. Right.

He blinked blearily at the clock; _3:47 _leered back at him in neon blue.

_I hate that thing_, he thought, frustrated, and pulling his quilt over his head he tried to get back to sleep.


	7. Crossing Paths

"Casper?"

Casper didn't turn around for a moment, concentrating on double-checking figures for the weekly shopping trip.

"One second," he said, and then, "there, done. Right, sorry, what?"

He turned around. Joe was standing waiting for him, looking uncharacteristically hesitant, but with something decidedly excited in his eyes.

"Casper," Joe began a second time, "anything going on here on Friday?"

Casper thought for a minute.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "Just the usual."

Joe nodded as though he had expected this.

"Well, you know you were saying a few weeks ago," he said carefully, "that if anyone had any ideas for fundraisers they should suggest them?"

Casper nodded slowly.

"But Friday's too soon – we'd have no time to organise it," he said.

"Not if I already organised it and all you have to do is not say no…"

Casper raised his eyebrows.

"Joe…" he said disapprovingly.

"Cas, look, I promise it'll work; trust me, it's going to be great," Joe said, his eyes wide and convincing. Casper held back a laugh, remembering his little cousin when he was six trying to coerce Casper into giving him more sweets.

"What is it?" he asked, sighing. Joe looked very shifty.

"…it's a band…"

Casper closed his eyes and tried not to look annoyed. It didn't work very well.

"Joe, you know why we don't have bands in to play – we can never get anyone half-way decent and they just don't draw people, and even if they're any good we never make a profit out of it…"

"They're playing for free, Casper, otherwise I wouldn't have organised it, and these guys…" he trailed off for a moment. "These guys aren't amateur, Casper. They're crazy busy and it's kind of a big deal for them to try and get here – they're really nice, they'll be great," he added, seeing Casper's expression.

Casper sighed.

"Well, it doesn't look like I have a choice, does it?" he said. Joe looked down, seemingly abashed, but Casper could have sworn he saw him biting his lip as though he was trying not to laugh.

x

Casper spent that entire Friday on edge, trying not to snap at people for small annoyances. By the time five o'clock came around, almost everyone was doing their utmost to avoid aggravating him. Liz managed to convince everyone to put the television on for half an hour, and Joe arrived just after six with a young woman Casper had never met before. She had chin length brown hair and glanced around the room with a professional eye as she entered.

"Casper, Zippy – Zippy, Casper," Joe said. "Zip's going to help set up, if that's okay Casper?"

Casper nodded.

"Need any help?" Dave asked. Liz looked hopeful as well.

"That'd be great," Zippy said, grinning. "If it's not too much trouble."

"What about the group themselves?" Casper asked politely, but Joe knew he was in a bad mood.

"They should be here at about seven," Joe said. Casper nodded again.

For the next hour, Joe, Dave, Liz and Zippy carefully carried things through from the back of a van outside to the stage area – blocks about chest-height off the ground in one corner of the room. Zippy did most of the setting up herself with Joe helping. Casper watched out of the corner of his eye, pretending to concentrate on his work, and realised that the piano that usually stood against the opposite wall was on the stage; when had they done that?

"It was earlier this morning, when you were out talking to Lucy," Liz said when he asked her. "Joe had a few mates of his from work help him; they did it really smoothly, it was really cool."

"Oh," said Casper. He got out his phone and sent a text to Seth that went something along the lines of: "Am going insane – please be here as soon as you can." Seth's reply was almost instant: "Will be."

Now there was a burst of notes from the stage – Joe had opened the piano and was playing something simple, checking notes against a small, calculator-sized object, sometimes reaching forward to turn something inside the case of the piano. Casper gave up the pretence of work and turned to watch him; he'd never seen his cousin work before.

The speed with which he worked was impressive; within ten minutes he ran two hands along all the keys, checked his instrument and nodded to himself before closing the piano case and lid again. He then moved over to the three guitar cases at the front of the stage, opened each one and went through each note against the instrument in his hand quickly and efficiently before setting each guitar on its own stand.

Casper didn't see what else he did, because Liz was asking him about their supplies for the next week or so, but soon he was setting up a mic stand and standing behind it, his hands in his pockets as he waited. Then he and Zippy did a sound check on every microphone and amp, one of which made a prickling noise until Zippy fiddled around with it, and then it was half-past seven and the main lights went off, to be replaced by coloured lights turning and flicking across where the crowd would be. At this point Big Joe – so-called because he was verging on six foot whereas Casper's cousin Joe was just below average height – went to the doors to stand outside as bouncer. He had just stepped through when someone else came through the other way – Seth. Casper was relieved, and went over to him immediately, walking into a hug and burying his face in Seth's shoulder.

"I'm going _insane_," he moaned quietly, so that only Seth could hear him. "It's all going to go _wrong_, I know it…"

Seth held onto him for a minute and then moved back to look him in the eye.

"It'll be fine, Casper," he said. "Even if it's not, is it the end of the world?"

"Yes."

Seth laughed and slipped his hand into Casper's.

"Well, it's too late to duck out now," he said practically. "Why don't we go ask Joe if everything's ready – after all, you said the band would be here at seven, and I don't see anyone."

Casper realised he was right; the only people there who weren't usually were Joe and Zippy, who were standing by the lighting board, deep in discussion. He walked over to them with Seth.

"Joe, where are they? You said they'd be here by now," Casper said.

Joe glanced at Zippy and then back to Casper again.

"They are here," he said.

"Where?"

"Casper, how much do you trust me?" Joe asked carefully, that strange expression on his face again, seriousness over… excitement?

Casper considered this.

"A reasonable amount," he eventually settled on. "Why?"

"If I were to say 'it's a surprise', would you stay out of the back room until later?" The words came out of Joe's mouth very rapidly, as though he was worried about the answer.

Casper felt annoyance building and was about to respond in the negative when Seth put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure that'll be okay, Joe," Seth said. Casper turned to him, confused.

"What?" he asked.

"Casper, Joe's clearly been working on this for some time; why don't we just let him keep his secrets, okay?"

After a pause, Casper nodded reluctantly and allowed Seth to guide him over to his favourite armchair. Seth sat down, and pulled Casper onto his knees, tipping him slightly sideways so that he laughed.

"Seth…" he said, pulling away, unwilling to abandon his irritation just yet but feeling a smile reaching his lips. Seth pulled him into another hug, winding his arms around him and holding on.

"No way," he said. "You are staying _right_ here until eight o'clock."

Casper pretended to resist for a moment before caving, and curling up against his boyfriend sulkily.

"I am not a control freak," he said.

"Of course not, Casper."

"I just don't like other people taking over."

"Of course not, Casper."

Casper turned his head so that he could see Seth's face.

"Are you humouring me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Of course not, Casper," Seth said.

"Seth!"

"Yes?" Seth replied innocently.

"You're supposed to be on my side, you know," Casper said mock-grumpily, settling back against his boyfriend.

"I am on your side," Seth said, his hand reaching over to play with Casper's hair. "I just think that, on this particular occasion, you need reminding to relax a little."

"Mm… maybe…" Casper said. He had meant it to come out sounding annoyed, but just curling up with Seth was more comforting than he was willing to admit and he could feel the irritation seeping away.

"Joe's not a little kid anymore," Seth continued. "He knows how things work – I'm sure he's got something great planned."

There was a pause.

"Casper?"

"Alright, I suppose you're right," he said.

x

The doors opened at eight o'clock; by quarter past, it was reasonably busy, though not as full as Casper would have liked it. He had unfortunately had to leave Seth's company once eight o'clock reached them – as host he was meant to mingle with the regulars and newcomers, and although it was never said aloud most people knew that it was Casper's social skills that kept _The Friendly Ghost _afloat.

At half-past eight, the music faded and stopped as Joe walked up onto the stage and stood in front of the mic. He waited as the crowd realised he was there and quietened down a little, and then spoke.

"Hey everyone," he started. "Well, we have a band in tonight, as you can see."

"Who is it?" someone at the back shouted. Joe grinned.

"You'll find out in a minute. However, I'd just like to point out that these guys are professionals and they have shuffled around their schedule to come here – so be _nice_," he added. The crowd laughed.

"Right," Joe continued, "this is how it's going to go. The lights are going to go down... the band is going to come on… then they're going to be playing as the lights come up."

This met with general interest, many people looking at the door to the back room and the cleared route from it to the stage with curiosity.

"So, without keeping you waiting anymore – have a great night!" Joe finished, and left the stage. The lights went down, and the room was black. There were a few giggles and silly screams, and then a chord was struck from the stage. The lights faded up, silhouetting a single figure standing in behind the microphone. Casper's jaw dropped as he recognised the song. _No way…_

The crowd had recognised it too – there were disbelieving gasps and excited screams as they all moved closer to the stage. The vocal part started, and the lights flicked up to reveal the identity of the figure.

Eddie Potter. It had to be him – there was no way you could mistake him for anyone else. Which meant, Casper realised impossibly slowly as the crowd went mad, that this was _Phoenix_.

A few crazy minutes later, their first song ended. The cheers of the crowd were just as loud; and the crowd seemed to have swelled in number, Casper thought. Eddie Potter looked around, and then back at the audience, and then, grinning, spoke into the mic.

"Hello Friendly Ghost!" he called.

The response was tumultuous. He pretended to be knocked back by the sound, laughing. Zak the Obnoxious came out from behind the drum kit and joined him at the front.

"Hey guys," he said, waving. This got another cheer.

"It's really great to have such a big welcome," he said, "thanks for that, everyone."

"We have a little technical hitch," Eddie explained, "so we're just going to talk a bit and pretend that no one has noticed." This got a laugh, and Casper could see that Zippy was on the stage now, fiddling around with one of the amps.

"So here's our problem," Zak said. "We would normally have had a running order prepared. But _Eddie_ was meant to be writing it on the plane home this morning –" and at this, Eddie looked up at the ceiling, expression innocent "– and he _fell asleep_." The laughter increased as Zak looked at Eddie with a disapproving expression. Their little act didn't last long; Eddie grinned sheepishly and turned back to the audience.

"I know, I know… but on the other hand, this should be more fun for you lot," he said. "We're going to run through whatever songs we think of, and we're more than happy to take suggestions from the crowd." Zippy came up behind the two of them, and said something quietly to Eddie, who nodded.

"Okay, we're nearly done," he said, sounding pleased, "but there's one more thing we'd like to say."

Zak took it up from where he'd left off with barely a pause.

"We're really happy to be doing this tonight – we're not being paid, and obviously you guys aren't paying to get in, and that's good fun for everyone," he explained. There were several cheers. "But as everyone here probably knows, this place is a charity, so please, please make it worth their while for putting us up, and give generously. Thank you!"

With that they went into their next song.

The next hour and a half Casper only remembered as a mad, brilliant blur. The crowd grew in number as people texted friends to invite them, and eventually Big Joe had to draw the line and stop the queue at the door, only letting new people in when other people went out. The queue stretched a long way down the street. Casper resorted to drafting in off-duty volunteers so that they could manage the bar. He spotted Joe twice, close to the stage, keeping an eye on the chairs that had been placed so as to provide the group with a clear route from the back room to the stage. The first time, he caught his eye and Casper mouthed "I'm going to _kill_ you!" at him, the effect of which was rather spoiled by the huge grin he couldn't seem to get rid of. The second time he could only see the back of his head, so he decided he would have to kill him later.

Metaphorically, of course.

After the first hour and a half, the music died and Eddie spoke again.

"Guys, we're going to take a break – we'll be back with you in…" he glanced around at the rest of the group, most of whom nodded "… about twenty minutes, alright?"

The crowd cheered, and the regular music came up as the band put instruments down, switched off amps and made their way off stage. Casper caught Liz's eye, and she nodded. He made his way across the room, and reached Joe at the barrier of chairs.

"How –" he started to ask, but Joe interrupted him

"Come on, let's go," he said, grabbing Casper's arm and all but dragging him to a gap in the row of chairs so that they could get through to the back room.

When they got to the door, Joe didn't bother to knock, just opened it and all but pushed Casper through before going back and leaving him alone.

Casper found himself standing in front of the closed door.

"That was helpful," he said absent-mindedly to the door, blinking a little because of the normal lighting. Thankfully, someone else spoke.

"Hey, you must be Casper?"

Casper turned. Eddie Potter was a few feet away, smiling.

"Eddie Potter," he said, nodding in greeting.

"Casper Livingston," Casper returned, smiling back. He heard someone move on his right and turned again, only to shake hands.

"Zak," said the cheerful blond, grinning. The others introduced themselves one by one.

"Joe's appalling, he shouldn't have just dumped you in here," said Amy smiling, "it's hardly fair on you." At that moment, however, the door opened again, and Joe slipped in.

"Sorry about that, Cas," he said cheerfully, "Zippy wanted to check something." His last few words were lost, as Zak jumped to his feet.

"Harts!" he mock-shouted. Joe laughed.

"'Noxious!" he called back. The two of them met in the middle of the room, and moving so fast Casper could barely follow it, they exchanged some strange handshake thing, high-fiving and crossing hands before they hugged and separated.

"Where the hell have you been?" Zak asked, thumping Joe playfully on the shoulder, who laughed again.

"Look who's talking!" he said. "And that reminds me – how was Down Under, guys? See any kangaroos?" The others laughed, and began to explain, but Finea leapt in before everyone else.

"Oh, wonderful," she said, "everyone behaved flawlessly to stereotypes." Joe grinned.

"Oh yeah?" he said, noting how everyone else was looking mildly sheepish, though amused. "Do tell."

"Well," Finea said dramatically, mischief in her eyes as she milked it for all it was worth, "Amy got a flawless tan, my freckles multiplied by a thousand, Adam, Sam and Webster acted like proper British louts straight from boarding school –" this got a raucous laugh from the aforementioned three, "– and Eddie got sunstroke _four _times. Oh, and Zak broke things." Eddie ducked his head a little, laughing with everyone else as Joe turned to look at Zak with a raised eyebrow. Zak held up his hands in mock-defence.

"It was only one drumstick!" he said, "I'm almost entirely innocent!"

"And the bottom of the snare," Amy pointed out.

"And my toothbrush," added Webster.

"And that hot water bottle," Finea finished.

"Why am I _not _surprised?" Joe teased. "Hang on, though; how the hell did you break a hot water bottle?" Everyone started to laugh again, Joe and Zak included. Casper was soon drawn into conversation, and they all talked animatedly for the next fifteen minutes. Finally, Eddie, who had done more listening than talking, spoke up.

"Guys, finish off your drinks, we're back on in about four minutes," he reminded them. He didn't speak very loudly, but every person in the room stopped talking immediately to listen to him. They did so, and four minutes later – Casper counted – they all got to their feet and headed back out onto the stage.

They played for another hour and a half, then took another twenty minute break. The second time they were in the back room was quieter, but a few fizzy drinks later and they were waking up again.

x

Later, when they were packing up, they got the chance to talk again. It was half-past two by this point, but the band seemed to be pretty cheerful as they enclosed their instruments into cases and got ready to leave.

"Thanks for coming," Casper said as they made their way to the door. Eddie Potter grinned back at him.

"Our pleasure," he said. "I'm serious – stuff like this is really fun to do. Maybe we can turn up again sometime?"

Casper nodded, pleased.

"That'd be great," he said, and he meant it. For a moment the two of them just looked at each other, and Casper frowned a little. He felt as though there was something he had to say, something important that he had forgotten about, something on the tip of his tongue. But then the moment vanished as Zak laughed loudly at some joke Joe had told and Casper and Eddie broke eye contact.

"Nice meeting you!" Zak called back over his shoulder as they left. "See you on Sunday, Joe!"

"See you!"

"Bye!"

"Bye, everyone!"

The heavy door clanged shut behind them as they went out to their taxi, and everyone went back to their usual business, chatting excitedly about their evening. The band had played mostly guitar or piano-led numbers, but that night Casper dreamt of laughter and frightened eyes and the sound of a pipe.


	8. Conversation Topics

"They're baiting you, you know that?"

Harry looked up. Draco Malfoy had burst through the floo in his office and spoken without preamble.

"Take a seat and start from the beginning," Harry replied, calmly gesturing to a chair and leaning back in his own. Draco sat down awkwardly, clearly too restless to be comfortable. He did not seem to know where to begin, so after a minute Harry prompted him.

"Who's 'they'?" he asked.

"Who do you think?" Draco said impatiently and Harry raised his eyebrows.

"The anti-integrationists? I thought they were still occupied with in-fighting?"

Draco rubbed a hand across his face.

"That's what my sources say," he conceded, "but it's looking more and more like the scrapping is only on the surface. Behind that…"

"You think they've managed to unite?" Harry said, frowning and leaning forwards. "How can you be sure?"

"I can't, but there are certain things that make me think…" Draco trailed off again, and the two of them sat in silence for a moment.

"What did you mean about them baiting me?" Harry asked quietly, and Draco swallowed.

"There are all sorts of whispers going around at the moment," he began, getting his thoughts together, "and not all of them have any truth in them, but when you put them all together it starts to look very concerning."

"Go on."

"I'm still looking for absolute confirmation, but it seems…" Draco looked straight at Harry. "I think that an alliance of anti-integrationists are behind a large number of events, including information theft at the Ministry of Magic and recent attacks on members of the Weasley clan. They may have been around longer than anyone suspected; and there is a strong possibly that they were behind the abduction of your son."

Harry paled; for an instant he seemed completely frozen.

"By attacks…" he murmured, bypassing the subject of Eddie's abduction for the moment as too momentous.

"I'm referring to the Phoenix fire, the poisoning, a number of less noticeable incidents…" Draco shrugged casually, though his tone was far from flippant.

"You said you didn't have confirmation?" Harry asked with an enforced calm he would never have managed as a teenager. _How times have changed, _Draco thought wryly.

"I don't, no," he answered aloud, "but I think I will be able to get some in the next couple of weeks. I've found a lead. But I needed to make sure… I need you to keep your nose out."

"When the cat's away…" muttered Harry.

"Exactly."

There was a pause.

"You'll come to me – "

"- as soon as I know, naturally."

Another pause, and then Draco stood. He seemed about to leave as abruptly as he had arrived when he stopped and looked back at Harry.

"Are you planning on telling King Weasley?"

"Don't call him that," Harry answered automatically without feeling. "I should talk to Ron – the attacks aren't just on me – but unless I have solid evidence I can't go to the Ministry."

"So…"

"So I'll have a word with him about improving the family defences, but I'll hold onto the rest until we know more."

Draco nodded, and crossed to the fireplace.

"Good luck, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. Draco left without a word.

x

Eddie stood, leaning against the brick wall, warm in the morning sun, his eyes half-closed and his headphones in his ears. It was a quarter past eleven, and he was expecting the rest of Phoenix to arrive any minute. They were heading into the centre of London to do some tourist-y things, and hoping to go out for dinner all together in the evening. After a few minutes, there were footsteps and then there was a tap on his shoulder. He looked around. Finea was there, smiling sheepishly.

"Hey, Eddie," she said. Eddie greeted her in return, taking his headphones out and switching his music off.

"Hi Finea," he replied, giving her a half-smile. "Where is everyone else?"

She gave a little laugh.

"They're not coming," she said. "I wasn't sure if you were either. Zak got guilt-tripped into some family thing, Adam's surprised Amy with a romantic day out," she giggled and waggled her eyebrows and Eddie laughed too, "Webster's got a horrible cold and Sam assumed the whole thing was off and decided to go visit his mum." She rolled her eyes.

"Just us two, then?" Eddie said, slightly surprised but mostly amused. "What are you going to do all day, then?"

Finea shrugged.

"I don't know," she said. "I was all set for a day out, but I suppose I'll head home and think of something."

A thought occurred to Eddie, and he suggested it, feeling bold.

"Well, the two of us could still have that day out…" he said. "You know, so that we can tell them what they missed?"

Finea looked surprised, but pleased.

"Sounds good," she said, grinning.

x

A Wednesday evening in winter time, and Henry and Joe had visitors over for dinner; Casper and Seth were there, as well as a few friends of Joe's from school and university. It was not long since Christmas. Their meal had finished over an hour ago and they were still all sitting around the cleared table talking animatedly, swapping stories and laughter.

"… oh, come on!" Leanne said teasingly. "Everyone's got a celebrity story, someone famous they nearly bumped into or thought they saw somewhere!"

"Not me," said Nick, shaking his head. "Nope. I am thoroughly ordinary and without celebrity links." Leanne laughed.

"Unlike this lucky lot," he continued. "You all know Phoenix, right?"

"I'm related to one of them," Henry said grinning, "so yeah. But it's not the same when you've known them since they were kids – much less exciting."

Nick shrugged, amused.

"I bet you could say some cool things, though – stuff that sounds better out of context?" Leanne suggested, grinning.

"Hm, let me see," Joe said jokingly. "I could say that I've had a conversation with Ezzy Potter when she was wearing only a towel…" he burst out laughing at the look of confusion on Nick's face. Esmerelda Potter was reasonably well-known in her own right now, having done a few big roles in West End shows and the odd advert. Nick leaned forward, both elbows on the table.

"Okay, explain, _now_," he said, making everyone around the table laugh. Joe gathered himself so that he could talk instead of just laughing and began to explain.

"Me and Zak," he began, "have been going to cons – conventions – together for ages, and because Zak lives closer to the train station than me we decided I'd meet him at his place. Of course, when I get there at half-past six in the morning, he's not ready."

"Typical Zak," Henry laughed. "I think I remember you telling me this." Joe nodded.

"Probably. Anyway, while Zak's flapping around his flat getting his things together, I stood and had a conversation with Ez, who'd stayed the night."

"They're a couple now?" Casper asked curiously. Joe nodded, grinning.

"Took Zak months and months to get the nerve to ask her out," he said, shaking his head, "but he got there in the end. Anyway, because it's only half-six in the morning, Ezzy's just got out of the shower, so she's all bundled up in her towel." Joe shrugged, leaning back in his chair and reaching for his glass of wine. "And there you have it."

"See, when you explain it like that," Seth said, "it doesn't sound like much. It's just the way you said it the first time makes it sound…"

"…like any straight bloke should die of jealousy?" Nick said with a straight face, before he started to laugh again. Everyone else joined him. After a few minutes, Joe seemed to remember something.

"Speaking of couples," he began.

"We weren't, but carry on," said Casper jokingly and Joe rolled his eyes at him before continuing.

"Speaking of couples, you'll never guess who's just hooked up," he said, with the air of a delighted gossiper.

"Who?" Henry and Leanne asked at the same time, which made everyone laugh again for a little bit.

"Eddie and Finea," Joe finally managed. The others looked surprised.

"Seriously?" Leanne asked.

"Actually, that's oddly… right… somehow…" Casper said, thinking.

"Are they really sweet, Joe?" Seth asked. Joe nodded, grinning.

"They're adorable," he said. "They've only been going out a few weeks. I know Ed's been feeling a bit off lately, and it's really sweet because Fin comes in and his face just lights up…"

The others all cooed and agreed that this was indeed adorable. Casper spoke up curiously.

"What's up with Eddie, Joe?" he asked. Joe glanced at Henry who thought carefully before he spoke.

"He's just been working himself a bit too hard," Henry said. "That's Eddie in a nutshell. And he's been really busy, tying up loose ends and organising Phoenix's stuff for the next few months. They really need to get themselves a PA or a secretary or something," he finished, shrugging.

x

"It's this training thing," Seth explained.

"For paramedics?" Casper asked, as they walked through the drizzle. Both of their respective shifts had finished, and Casper had met Seth outside the hospital so that they could walk back to Seth's together. Seth nodded.

"It's France, for a few days, and basically it's like wilderness training – I forget what the real name for it is, but that's what they're calling it," he said, moving to one side of the pavement and pulling Casper with him to avoid getting splashed by the passing cars as they drove through the puddles on the road.

"So you're off for five days?" Casper said.

"Yep. Five days in the north of France in January. Great." Seth rolled his eyes jokingly. Casper laughed.

"It's not specific to you though – you work in the city, isn't it odd to learn the wilderness stuff?"

Seth thought for a moment before explaining.

"It's more like an extra thing. Adding to your CV, you know? And it's a good project to do, and always good to have a few of us around who know about it, just in case, I suppose."

Casper nodded.

"How many of you are going?"

"There's… about twenty London paramedics going," Seth said, "four of my friends and me, and the others I don't know. It should be tough, but fun."

"Like boy scouts for paramedics?" Casper suggested teasingly, and Seth laughed.

"Exactly," he replied.

x

Seth left on the Saturday, and by the Tuesday night Casper was beginning to realise that he missed having Seth around to talk to. They had gotten in the habit by now of arranging their shifts (Casper's being the more flexible) so that they matched up and they could spend as much time as possible together – Casper was now realising just how much time that that had been. He filled it with an extra shift or two, and tried not to think about it apart from looking forward to Friday morning when Seth would return.

However, his attempts not to think about Seth were somewhat thwarted that evening when a bunch of Seth's friends and workmates arrived at The Friendly Ghost, taking up a couple of corner sofas and chatting away. Casper went to say hello, having met a few of them before, and they talked for a few minutes. As he got up to continue his duties as host, circling the room and socialising, he felt a hand on his arm.

"You're Seth's boyfriend, right?"

Casper turned. There was a woman around Seth's age standing behind him. He nodded.

"That would be me," he said. "Casper, nice to meet you."

She gave him a half-smile.

"Can we talk?" she said. "We don't have to stay here if you need to get on with something."

Casper was slightly surprised, but nodded.

"Sure," he said, changing his immediate plans. "I'm heading to the back to get some more crisps out, you can follow me if you like."

She did. She did not speak until they were well out of earshot of the group of paramedics.

"Look, I know this sounds really rude, because you don't know me, but I thought you should hear it," she said carefully as Casper unlocked the door to the back room with the keys that he kept on a lanyard around his neck.

"What should I hear?" Casper asked, slightly wary and more than a little confused, though he hid it well.

"I'm Tracy, I work with Seth at the hospital," she explained. "It's just something he's been talking about a lot…"

Casper nodded for her to continue as he marked some of the stock off on the list. She sighed and seemed uncomfortable, but spoke anyway.

"It's just… well, you come up in conversation a fair bit when you're not around, and he's not very… well." She hesitated again, chewing on her lip, before she continued. "He says that he's only really going out with you because he feels sorry for you, and he doesn't have anything better at the moment." She said it quickly, as though it would mean less if the words went past faster.

Casper did not reply, but his hand tightened around the pen he was holding.

"Sorry," Tracy said. "But if my boyfriend was saying that, I'd want to know, so…" she shrugged, watching him. "I'll just… go back to the others, shall I?"

After a moment more, she left and returned to the main club. Casper very calmly finished what he was doing, and headed back out into the club, cheerful as ever on the surface but his thoughts tangling themselves in knots.. If she had sounded cruel or rude he would have ignored her; but she had sounded genuine. And part of Casper had been expecting this for some time.

x

It was the following day. It was three o'clock in the morning. And the man nick-named Marathon was lazing around in the London flat that he was borrowing off a friend for a few days, when one of his other friends stuck his head through the door.

"Hey Mara," the tough-looking man said. "Guess who Betsy says is hanging around in the park, looking like he's waiting for someone?"

Marathon sat up, curiosity in his expression.

"Who?"

"Maybe you want to come and see for yourself."

In a few minutes, Marathon was walking into the park, Kay and Betsy behind him.

"He's in the corner," Betsy murmured. Marathon looked. There, leaning up against the railings, was Casper Livingston.

"Hello, Ghost." Marathon's voice was quiet, but it carried, and Casper looked up in his direction.

"Mara," he said coolly. Marathon raised his eyebrows. He was not someone who was easily surprised, but Casper had been avoiding him for a long time now and to see him suddenly turn up at their old meeting-place was certainly worth the uncharacteristic reaction. And then there was Casper's demeanour, as though those last few years had been nothing and things were back the way they were. Marathon walked forward a little way.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, looking Casper up and down as if trying to guess something. "Thought you were all entwined with milk-and-cookies-boy these days, no time for the likes of us." His tone was casual, but he watched for Casper's reaction closely.

Casper met his eyes, the old defiance in them.

"I can do what I like."

"That you can," Marathon replied.

There was a tense silence for a minute or two, and the Marathon spoke again.

"I've got a flat – just around the corner," he said. "I take it that's what you came for?"

Casper nodded and pushed himself away from the railings to stand up properly.

"Let's go then," he said. Marathon stared at him for a moment more, still wondering what had caused the change of heart, but eventually deciding that that was Casper's business. He turned and led the way out of the park and back up to his flat.

x

When Casper returned to The Friendly Ghost the following afternoon, there was nothing about his demeanour that marked the difference. However, had it been hot enough to merit sleeves being rolled up, everyone would have been able to see the dark bruises around his wrists and forearms.


	9. Back Again

TRIGGER WARNING: References to self-harm.

x

"Hellooooooo, England!" Mark called as they got off the train. Seth and the others laughed, a little sleepily. The train journey had been a long one, and the training hard but fun. It was around nine in the morning, and they had just arrived in London.

Eventually, they came to the point where everyone had to go their separate ways.

"Not going home, Seth?" Isabel asked as she saw Seth turn to a different tube line than normal.

"I'm going to go drop in on Casper first," he said. "Haven't seen him all week, after all."

"God, I wish my boyfriend was like that," Maria sighed, "mine thinks the height of romance is getting home and straight on the Xbox." There were giggles and hugs, and then Seth was away and headed to The Friendly Ghost.

x

"Hey everyone," he called as he entered through the hostel side. He got a few waves and nods from the volunteers that he knew, and then Liz came down the stairs.

"Seth!" she grinned. "Good to see you – how was France?"

"Great," he said, grinning back. "Tough, but great."

"Did you just come straight from the train station, Seth?" Dave asked as he came into the room himself, eyeing Seth's backpack and suitcase. Seth nodded.

"Wanted to say hello, and The Friendly Ghost isn't that far out of my way," he explained. "Is Cas in?"

Liz shook her head.

"Sorry, Seth, no dice. He went out… a couple of hours ago?" she said. "Not sure where he was headed."

"We can tell him you stopped by if you like," Dave suggested. Seth paused for a moment, disappointed. Casper had known what time Seth would get in… but then, maybe he was waiting at Seth's flat. He did have a spare key, after all. Seth nodded to himself.

"If you could, then that would be great," he said gratefully to Dave, who nodded.

"Sure."

x

Home sweet home. Seth unlocked the front door to his flat and went in, glancing to the coat hooks. Only his things, nothing belonging to Casper. He toed off his own shoes and shrugged off his coat, and wandered through each of the four rooms in the flat. No Casper, not in bedroom, bathroom, kitchen or main room. Seth frowned.

_He probably had to go and deal with something_, he comforted himself. _Or he forgot, or lost track of the time, and that's not a big deal. Happens to everyone._

Sufficiently satisfied with this answer, but still a little bit disappointed, Seth looked at his suitcase, decided that he could unpack later, and sat down in front of the TV with the remote in hand.

Four hours later he had unpacked his suitcase, taken a shower, walked around the corner for some necessities, made lunch and eaten it, and mostly ignored the television. Bored, he decided to walk down to The Friendly Ghost again. He knew Liz and Dave would be there to talk to, at least, and maybe Joe, if Casper was not back yet.

x

Casper was back, just, when Seth got there.

"Casper!" Seth smiled. Casper turned and glanced at him.

"Oh, hi Seth." His voice was cool and uninterested. The smile faded from Seth's face.

"Cas?" he asked. "Everything okay?"

Casper did not answer him, just picked up his jacket which he had thrown over the back of a chair, and headed upstairs. Seth stood where he was, confused. He turned to look at Liz and Dave, who had looked up from their work to watch what had happened.

"What did I do?" Seth asked, bewildered and worried. Liz bit her lip and shook her head.

"Don't know, sorry Seth," she said. "Casper's been off all week, but we thought he'd cheer up when you got back." Dave nodded his agreement with her. Seth thought for a minute, and decided to find out what was going on, following Casper up the stairs.

He found him in Liz, Dave and Casper's kitchenette, washing up.

"Casper?" he asked hesitantly, standing in the doorway. Casper did not react. "Cas?"

Seth leant against the counter, trying to get an angle where he could see Casper's expression and failing. But then Casper turned to put away a glass or two, and Seth could see that his expression was as cool and slightly bored as it had been downstairs.

"Casper, look at me, please."

Casper sighed slightly, and turned to look at Seth.

"What do you want?" he asked, as though it was the most uninteresting topic he could think of. Seth took a couple of seconds to formulate an answer, still confused by Casper's behaviour.

"I… I wanted to see you," Seth said softly. "I've missed you."

Casper raised his eyebrows.

"You've seen me now. Are you done? I have work to get on with." He turned back to the washing up, and Seth just stood there, completely confused.

"I don't understand," he said, deciding to go with complete honesty. Except that that did not work either.

"No, I expect you don't," Casper said without turning around. "Good for you."

There was silence in the little kitchenette apart from the slosh of water and the clank and clatter of cutlery and crockery. Seth grasped for something to say in his mind, and found nothing. Eventually Casper was finished with the washing up, and checking the time headed downstairs. Seth followed him, uncertain what to do now. Clearly Casper was not okay, but if he was so determined not to talk about it how could Seth help him? Seth frowned at the back of Casper's head as he followed him down the stairs. When they reached the main area, Liz and Dave were still there. Dave looked at Seth with raised eyebrows and a hopeful expression, but Seth shook his head and shrugged, letting his confusion and concern show on his face. Dave frowned. Seth was just gathering himself to talk again when there was a voice from the door.

"Come on, Ghost, I haven't got all day."

Seth, Liz and Dave whirled around. Marathon was standing in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

"Get out, Mara," Liz all but spat. "You're banned here, you know that." Marathon looked down at his feet carefully and then back up.

"Look closer, Lizzy Lizard. I'm not across the threshold." He grinned. "I can stand here as long as I like."

Behind Seth now, Casper was shrugging on his jacket.

"Cas, where are you going?" Dave asked, and Seth caught the concern in his voice.

"Where do you think he's going, big man?" Marathon answered, sounding slightly malicious. "Don't get jealous now."

Casper passed Seth and headed towards the door.

"Cas, you can't –" Dave began, but his voice faded away.

"I think you'll find I can do what I like," Casper said, looking straight at him. There was a trace of defiance in his voice. He turned and continued until he reached Marathon in the doorway.

"Cas…" Seth was stunned, and more than hurt. Something inside him seemed to ache. Casper ignored him.

As soon as Casper had crossed the threshold to the outside world, Marathon slid an arm around his waist. But before they left, he glanced back over his shoulder at Seth.

"What did you _do_?" he mouthed, curiosity alive and sparkling in his eyes. Seth had no answer for him, because the same question was echoing around his own head.

_What did I do?_

x

Seth was sitting in his flat alone, much later, trying to decipher how he felt. He was angry, yes; hurt, yes; but he did not feel as though it was Casper's fault. Casper had seemed to genuinely believe that he was doing the right thing, which meant that from his perspective he was – and by this point Seth knew more than enough about Casper's highly developed moral compass. So that meant that something had happened while Seth had been in France, something that made Casper believe it was acceptable to go off with Marathon without even talking to Seth first. Did he believe they had split up? Or maybe that something had somehow invalidated their relationship? Seth's head was spinning with paranoia and possibilities, when there came a knock on the door. He got up to answer it.

It was Casper.

"Casper," Seth said, surprised. Without a clue how to react to him now, he decided to follow his instincts. He opened the door and gestured for Casper to come in, which he did.

"I'm not staying," Casper said. "I just came to pick up some of my stuff."

Seth gave a little nod. _Of course_. Casper took this as permission and went to his things – there weren't many, just a pair of shoes in a corner, a couple of t-shirts in Seth's wardrobe, a toothbrush. The bits and pieces that had ended up at Seth's flat when Casper had been spending nights there were slowly collected and put into Casper's old rucksack, which he pulled over his shoulder when he was done. As he did, the strap tugged at the collar of his jumper, and Seth saw new vivid bruises along the base of his neck, purple and black and blue. Seth's sharp intake of breath made Casper flinch and pull his collar up to cover them again.

"Why do you let him do that to you?" Seth asked softly.

Casper shrugged.

"It's a thing."

Seth couldn't take his eyes off the collar of Casper's jumper, even though he could no longer see the bruises. Casper clearly noticed.

"It's my choice," he said, looking away, his voice a little rough.

"It doesn't have to be."

There was silence before Seth spoke again.

"Tell me what I did wrong."

Casper turned to him and met his eyes properly for the first time since Seth had returned.

"Why don't you ask your _friends_?" he said, slightly more hurt than malice in his tone before he turned and left.

"I will," Seth said quietly to the empty room.

x

The next day, Seth was back at work. True to his word, he started asking around. He soon discovered that a bunch of his friends had been at the Friendly Ghost on Tuesday night, including one Tracy Winters. Seth's eyes narrowed when he heard that. He knew Tracy. She had a penchant for cruel jokes and setting people against each other; she was flawlessly professional when working, but only then. After a few more questions, he found out that Tracy had gone to talk with Casper privately that night, and his mind was made up. Whatever she had said, it would have been a lie, and a malicious one. He needed to explain this to Casper. As soon as his shift was over at nine, he got changed and headed back to The Friendly Ghost.

It was busy that night. Seth had to wait a while, and it was nearly midnight before he got to talk to Casper when he followed him into the back room.

"Casper, I need to talk to you," he said.

"I'm busy," Casper replied. He lifted a box of crisps to take back to behind the bar, but fumbled them, and they would have fallen to the floor if Seth had not taken a quick step across the space between them and caught it for him. He held onto it as Casper reached to take it back, looking at him.

"You know, it's not fair to condemn someone on what someone else says about them," he said. "Most people at least let the accused defend themselves before they dish out the punishment."

Casper met his eyes. His expression was mostly one of defiance and sarcasm, but deep within it there was a tiny hint of hope. Seth pushed his luck a little further.

"Tracy is a malicious little gossip. You can talk to anyone she works with. She's always trying to split people up and make them fight, and she's hated me ever since I called her out on it last year." He let Casper take the box of crisps. "Not exactly a wonderfully unbiased witness, wouldn't you say?"

Casper stood there, conflicted.

"She said you told her," he said eventually, not meeting Seth's eyes, "that you were only with me because you felt sorry for me." He glanced up here, clearly watching for Seth's reaction. "And because you didn't have anyone better right now."

Seth fought the urge to shout and hit something. Anger had risen within him at the thought of anyone telling Casper that – Casper, the beautiful, incredible, but surprisingly insecure person that he was, had probably already been thinking it.

"Cas, you know that's not true, right?" Seth said quietly, watching him. "I care about you, sweetheart, and I'd never hurt you like that. Anyway, you know what I'm like, I can't lie to save my life. You'd know." He gave a little half-smile and thought he saw it returned, though Casper was looking down now so it was hard to tell.

"Look, think about it, okay?" Seth asked, careful not to push too far.

"What about Marathon?" Casper said, looking up at Seth again, his eyes sad. "I'm supposed to be meeting him later." Seth took a deep breath in.

"Who do you want to be with?" Seth asked. "I'm pretty sure that, given the circumstances, either of us are an option for you right now."

Casper looked surprised, and Seth knew why. His heart clenched at the thought of Marathon getting his hands on Casper again, even for a moment, but he had to give him the choice. Because if Casper felt even the slightest that he had to pick Seth, then it would not be right, and Seth knew it.

"I'll be around the rest of the night," Seth said. "You don't have to decide right now."

He turned to leave the room, but stopped when he felt Casper's hand on his upper arm, stopping him.

"I'd rather be with you," Casper said, a little shakily. Seth nodded slightly, his faint smile the only outward sign of the relief that had just overwhelmed him.

"Glad to hear it," he said quietly.

"And Seth?" Casper asked. "I'm sorry."

Seth shook his head.

"Nothing to apologise for. It wasn't your fault."

At that he took Casper in his arms and held him, unbelievably thankful to have him back.

x

Seth and Casper were quiet that night; with nothing else to do, they had retreated back to Seth's flat, unspeaking. It was a lot to process; Casper felt as though a very long time had passed since his and Seth's earlier conversation.

"Aren't you hot in that?" Seth asked quietly, nodding to Casper's thick hoodie. Casper glanced up at his words, surprised that Seth would want – but then he realised that Seth's words had no hint of suggestion in them, merely concern. He shrugged, and Seth nodded.

"Are… are you staying tonight?" Seth asked, equally quietly.

"If you want me too," Casper answered, keeping his voice cautiously neutral. There was a brief pause.

"If you're…" Seth began, and then shook his head. "Look, I'm happy for you to be here, if you are. Okay? No sense in both of us playing the 'if-you-do-you' game for hours."

Casper managed to crack a smile at that, but it faded quickly. He did want to stay over. Seth's flat was peaceful; and so was Seth, for that matter. But there were questions to be asked and answered, and Casper wasn't entirely sure which way the night would go. For the time being, he settled for a thoughtful silence.

Eventually, by mutual agreement, the two of them moved towards Seth's room. Seth went over to his chest of drawers.

"Here, you can borrow these if you like," he said, tossing the pyjamas to Casper, who caught them with a nod.

"Ta," he said.

Seth went into the bathroom first, leaving Casper to get changed. Casper was half-way done when Seth returned; at the sight of Casper's bare torso, Seth lost track of everything he had been thinking of before, stopping in his tracks. Casper, facing away from him, winced involuntarily. _Damn_. Still, this had to come. What would Seth's reaction be? Casper was fairly prepared for most of the normal ones; anger, confusion, guilt…

"There's some arnica in the cupboard in the bathroom; it'll help with the bruising."

…but not concern. Casper turned to look at Seth sharply and Seth looked back. There was no pity in his expression – Seth knew what Casper's reaction to that would be – but it was concerned, caring. Without a word, Casper nodded and headed into the bathroom himself.

Much later, when the two of them were lying awake in Seth's bed, Seth asked again the question that he had asked the day before.

"Why do you let him do that to you?"

The words seemed to hang in the air, invisible but impossible to ignore, for over a minute before Casper answered.

"I told you before," he said.

Seth nodded to himself. He had been wondering about that.

"You said it was a thing," he said. He could feel the movement against the blanket and mattress as Casper shrugged.

"Then that's your answer," he replied.

Seth frowned, thinking. Something did not seem quite right. Casper was an enigma, he always had been, and sometimes Seth wondered if he knew him at all – but sometimes he felt as though he had been given a clue, however oddly shaped. After some thought, he rephrased his question.

"Why would you go to someone who treats you like that?" he tried. Casper seemed to realise what he was trying to do, because he gave a quiet and somewhat brittle laugh, but did not answer. Seth recognised the opening where many would have given up. Casper knew that Seth was trying to work this out, and he was okay with that. He probably was not going to help Seth out at all – as a general rule, Casper did not bring up his own issues. But he was okay with the idea of discussing them, as long as Seth started the right conversation.

This had thrown Seth the first time he had encountered it in Casper; but after thought he had realised that many people he knew were the same, himself included. It was one thing for you to end up telling someone something difficult because they asked and you could not lie, but quite another to open the conversation yourself. Not many people Seth knew took it as far as Casper did, but then, not many people that Seth knew had had Casper's life.

Seth thought through the information he had carefully. He knew that the marks – bite marks, scratches and bruises – all over Casper came from spending time with Marathon. He knew from Liz and Dave that Casper went to Marathon willingly, and could easily best him in a fight if needed; but then, you did not need to be physically stronger than another person to coerce them into anything. You just needed to know them. _Hm_.

"Casper?"

"Hm?"

"What's Marathon like?"

Silence. Seth waited, patient as ever. Casper's answer, when it came, was quiet.

"Mara… he lives for the party. He doesn't do anything unless he gets some kind of enjoyment out of it." Another shrug against the mattress. "He's not entirely selfish; he wants everyone around him to enjoy themselves as much as he does, otherwise it's not as much fun."

Seth frowned.

"What about… in the alley, he was hurting you…"

"I hadn't told him about you," Casper said quietly. "I was going to, I don't cheat; but he came on too fast, he's used to being able to. And then you came along, and I think he was jealous…"

That seemed to be it. Seth frowned deeper. Casper did not generally lie; but he was good at letting his listener draw their own conclusions, normally the wrong ones. Casper had said that 'it was a thing', and Seth had assumed that that meant it was Marathon's. But if it was not, then the meaning of everything changed.

"The bruises, the marks," Seth said softly, stunned. "It's not Marathon's thing."

"No."

"It's yours?"

Again, that shrug.

"I suppose you could put it like that," Casper replied quietly. But Seth was still thinking.

"If that was your… thing," Seth said, suddenly wishing he had spent less of his life helping out in church and more learning to talk about… this sort of thing. "If that was your thing," he began again, "…why didn't you tell me?" He gave his own slightly helpless shrug, glad that Casper couldn't see him blush scarlet in the dark. "I know I'm pretty vanilla, but that doesn't mean that…"

Casper had turned over with a sigh, perhaps to better hear Seth's various stuttered attempts at talking. Seth gave up. _Your turn, Casper. I'm at sea here._

"It's not… that kind of 'thing'," he said quietly, the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice at Seth's embarrassment. Seth frowned again.

"But if it isn't, then…" Understanding dawned. Seth turned onto his side, face to face with Casper.

"It's like self-harm, isn't it?" he said, hesitantly, sure that he was right but lacking the vocabulary and aware that this was probably incredibly sensitive territory. "You go to him for…"

"Simplicity," Casper said, his voice softer than ever, but as oddly calm as Casper always seemed to be at moments like this. "Distraction… I don't know. I don't think about it too much. I suppose I do it to stop thinking, when thinking hurts."

Seth nodded, adding this to the bits and pieces that he found out about Casper when the mood was right, when the nights were quiet. It fitted into the picture he already had of Casper. Nothing more was said for a little while; it did not need to be. Seth cautiously reached out, and Casper moved into his arms, and eventually they were both asleep.

x

"…this is BBC News at ten o'clock. The man charged with the murder of…"

Eddie yawned as he rummaged through the fridge for the milk. The television was on in the background, and he could hear the noise of Finea drying her hair in her room.

"Tea, Fin?" he called.

"No thanks!" came the response. Eddie nodded to himself, bringing his bowl of cereal through to the living area, setting it down on the coffee table and then doing another trip to fetch his glass of water. Or mug, rather, because he hadn't been able to find a glass. His back a little uncomfortable, he stood with the mug for a minute or two, rolling his shoulders in an effort to relieve the discomfort as he absent-mindedly watched the news.

"…the investigation into the recent series of robberies has thus far led to nothing…"

x

Zak had his feet up on the table and was only just awake. He had fallen asleep on his sofa the night before, watching an old film late into the night. The television was still on quietly when his bleary eyes blinked open. He winced as he sat up – _note to self, don't fall asleep in that position again_ – and reached for the remote control, turning the volume up slightly so that he could listen to the news as he headed for the kitchen.

"…despite the previous ruling, the government has confirmed that they will not…"

x

Eddie heard Finea switch off the hair dryer.

"…and finally, the three bodies that were recovered from the Thames last night appear to have died of no cause at all. The bodies, two male and one female, show no sign of drowning or any other cause of death, bore no identification and the series of events that led to them being dumped in the river is still a complete mystery."

Eddie frowned. _No cause of death._ Strange, indeed. Unless they were killed by magic; but the wizarding world seldom let something like that get to the muggle news. Perhaps he would pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet later, and see.

Three digitised photos came up on the screen.

The mug that Eddie was holding slipped from his fingers and shattered as it hit the wooden floor, water and shards of the mug flying everywhere.

x

"The police are urging anyone with information to come forward – anyone who does so will be given full police protection. And now, for the weather…"

Zak changed the channel, flicking for something at least vaguely interesting to watch.

x

"Eddie, are you alright?" Finea called, concerned. She had heard the smash, and grabbed her dressing gown from the bed before opening the door of her room.

"Don't get too close in your bare feet, Fin," Eddie said. "Just dropped a mug, and it's smashed everywhere." He was bent over by the sofa. Finea winced.

"Do you need any help?" she asked, hovering in the doorway. Eddie straightened up with a rueful smile, several pieces of the broken mug held carefully in one hand.

"No, I'll sort it. Hope it wasn't one you were too fond of," he said, sheepish. Fin smiled back at him.

"Let me grab a pair of shoes and I'll come and help you," she said. He nodded, and she disappeared back into her room as he looked around at the mess. The television was off now.


	10. Coming Together

"Morning Weasley," a voice called as Henry made his way to his desk. He paused, surprised. None of his workmates usually spoke to him, preferring silence or at best, an acknowledging nod.

"Morning," he replied, smiling a little. Hester Braithwaite stuck her head out of he office door with a strange smile in return.

"Heard you were moving house," she said. "Did it go alright?"

Henry nodded.

"My boyfriend just moved out of his university place, so we've got a little one-bed flat together," he explained.

"Muggle-side?" she asked. "Because he's a muggle, your boyfriend, isn't he?"

Henry hesitated, confused, and then nodded.

"He is, yeah. Joe."

"Well, I won't keep you," she said, disappearing back into her office. After a brief pause, Harry continued down the corridor.

x

"Ron, he's been missing for more than six months now!"

Ron ran a hand through his hair, looking at his best friend.

"I know, Harry, but Malfoy's a law unto himself. He might be technically a normal citizen in the eyes of the law, but that doesn't mean the Ministry cares if he buggers off somewhere without telling you. Sit down, mate, that carpet's new."

Harry gave him a look before throwing himself into nearest armchair. They were in the living room of Ron and Hermione's house, but no one else was in. Ron sighed at Harry's expression.

"What makes you think he's in trouble?" he asked. "Maybe something you said just pissed him off."

Harry closed his eyes in frustration and opened them again. Leaning forward, he told Ron the information Draco had given him in their last meeting. When he had finished, Ron looked a lot more concerned.

"This is bad," he said.

"No, really?" Harry said with raised eyebrows.

"If," Ron continued, "it's true. You said Malfoy had nothing solid. There's still a good chance he got caught up in something he shouldn't have. If the anti-integrationists have formed an alliance –"

"- then they are a powerful force which need to be given serious attention," Harry said.

"I know, Harry, but think about it – they've been hidden bloody well if they exist," Ron said. "That level of cover-up would have to involve influence at the Ministry. Storming into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a complaint will only put you in a worse position, not to mention the rest of us."

He watched Harry closely as he said this. The thinner man looked resigned.

"I suppose you have a point," he said. "What do you think I should do?"

"Hold off for now, Harry," Ron said. "We need some plausible excuse to start digging around in that area. Once we've got one, we –"

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" Harry said suddenly. Ron turned around. Eddie was standing in the doorway, looking wary.

"I just came through the floo," he said, nodding to the kitchen. "I came by Hollywell and mum said you'd be here."

Ron coughed.

"I should probably get on with some things," he said. "I'll leave you two to talk."

"No, it's…" Eddie took a deep breath. "It's probably simpler if you stay, Uncle Ron."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"What's going on, Ed?" Harry asked quietly.

"I was watching the news," Eddie said, as though he was changing the subject. "Muggle stuff. Well, I wasn't really watching it much, it was just on in the background, on the telly." He paused as though to check both older men knew the object to which he was referring.

"We know what it is, Ed, go on," Ron said. He was used to dropping by to see Henry and Joe in their flat and had occasionally sat to watch some 'telly' with them. He didn't understand all of it, but he knew enough not to require an explanation now.

"There were three bodies pulled out of the Thames. Two men and a woman. They showed pictures of them." Eddie spoke very distantly, as though what he was saying was far from what he was thinking.

"They were the three people who took me."

Ron felt himself pale and glanced around at Harry, who was completely white. Eddie was looking at the edge of the bookcase, carefully taking in every detail.

"Ed, can you be absolutely sure?" Harry asked, his voice incredibly tense. Eddie looked at the two of them and gave a faint, humourless smile.

"Yes."

After a moment's hesitation, Ron stood.

"I need to dig up that report and get as much information as I can," he said. "I'm going in to the Ministry."

The other two barely moved, but Ron knew they had understood. He left the living room and headed for the floo.

x

"Hey, Weasley, are you bringing your pet to the Christmas party?"

Henry looked up, but Adrian had already gone. His face set, he continued with his work.

x

_He was pressed up against wood, his left eye peering through a gap. His hands grasped the edges of something tightly; he got the feeling that if he loosened his grip, he would fall a long way._

_It was hard to make out anything through the gap – only darkness, as though there was more wood blocking the hole on the inside. And then something flickered and he froze before jerking his head away from the hole. An eye! There had been another eye pressed up against the wood! Someone was standing barely inches away from him, inside the room. Breathing heavily, he heard someone speaking to him but ignored them. They weren't important. Carefully, he leant forwards again, pressing his eye to the gap._

_This time he could see more; a gloomy attic room, all dark beams and dust and shadows. But there was no one there._

"_It's okay," he murmured, confused. "Come back, I won't hurt you."_

_Nothing. Not a single sound. And then, appearing against the gap, the tips of two fingers. He tilted his head and caught a glimpse of a boy standing just under the window, staring back at him._

"_Ghost –"_

Casper woke up with a start, sitting up in the bed, breathing heavily. He barely registered Seth wake up in confusion next to him; half his mind was still there, standing on the ledge and staring through the gap in the boards.

"Casper?" Seth's voice was rough with sleeplessness, but concerned. He sat up too, putting a worried hand on Casper's shoulder. Casper ignored him, closing his eyes again, trying to hold onto the memory – or was it just a dream? – that was slipping further away from him with every breath.

"What's the matter, Cas?" Seth asked. "Bad dream?"

There had been boards, and an attic, and rain and… but had there? Casper concentrated harder, but all he got was the image of an eye before the memory was completely gone. He opened his eyes again, frowning at nothing in particular. After a minute, he sighed.

"Yeah," he said softly, apologetically. "Bad dream. Sorry to wake you up."

"S'okay," Seth murmured. "Back to sleep?"

"Mm."

Casper lay back down with Seth, curling into the taller man's embrace. Both of them fell back to sleep quickly and spoke nothing of the dream in the morning.

x

The next time it was Hester again. She was talking to him about the upcoming projects and when he had reached around to get a file for her he saw her deliberately knock his coffee over in the corner of his eye. He turned back quickly but the coffee had already spilled across the delicate transcription he had spent the afternoon on.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry," she said, her tone false. Henry ignored her, keeping his expression carefully neutral, pulling out his wand and trying to siphon away the excess liquid before it was too late.

"I hope the damage isn't too bad – isn't that due tomorrow?"

With that comment, she slipped out of the room. Henry fought for control of his emotions. The work wasn't unreadable, but this was a presentation piece and the calligraphy was ruined. He looked at the clock: half-past four. It would take him most of the evening.

Henry scrawled a quick, apologetic note to Joe and sent it before taking a fresh piece of parchment and starting the transcription again.

A minute or so later, he moved his coffee cup a safer distance away.

x

A week since Eddie had seen their faces in the muggle news, Ron was no nearer to getting any information.

"We know they were probably killed by magic," he repeated for the umpteenth time as he and the six senior Aurors sat in the conference room. "And we know they were involved in Eddie's abduction. What else do we know?"

Seamus Finnigan let his head rest on his folded arms.

"Squat," he said. "We don't even have their names. It's like they never even existed."

"We've got a team working a genealogy trace-spell on the remains, trying to find any relatives on the records, but it's going to take time," Adelaide Frank said. All six senior Aurors watched their chief as he came to a decision.

"You can go," he said finally, frustrated. "There's nothing more we can do at the moment."

All of them left but Ron, who rubbed his face with his hands and flicked through his parchment again before giving up on it for the day.

x

Two months later…

The meal was lovely, and after they wandered aimlessly down the street until Eddie sat down a bench and gestured for Finea to join him. She did so, steeling herself.

_This is it,_ she thought. _I'll just come right out with it._

_Right, it's time,_ he thought. _I need to say it before I get too nervous and mess it up._

"Finea, I –"

"Eddie, I –"

They both stopped, realising they were talking over each other, and laughed.

"You go first," Eddie said diplomatically. Finea shook her head.

"No, you," she smiled. Eddie gave a teasing roll of his eyes.

"How about we both say what we have to say at the same time?" he suggested. After a moment's thought, Finea lifted one shoulder in agreement.

"One," Eddie began. He looked suddenly nervous. "Two; three."

"I'm pregnant."

"Will you marry me?"

The two of them stared at each other for a long few seconds, mirror expressions of shock and surprise on their faces. And then Finea clapped her hands to her mouth, her face pink and eyes wide. Eddie's mouth opened, and then closed, and then opened again.

"It's –"

"Yours, of course," Finea said. Eddie managed a nod.

"Of course, I wasn't meaning to suggest – but you're really… really?"

Finea nodded, still pink.

"And, well –" Eddie began.

"The answer is yes." Finea blushed even pinker at her own words. Eddie looked delighted.

x

When Eddie and Finea arrived to dinner at Godric's Hollow, both of them were pink-cheeked; Finea was giggling. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You two alright?" he asked, amused. Both of them nodded innocently – and a little too quickly.

"Fine, dad. Are we the last ones here?" Eddie asked in return, changing the subject. Harry chuckled internally but decided to leave the matter alone.

"Just about," he replied. "I think Ezzy's just nipped back to her flat to get something. The others are all in the dining room, go on."

The two of them walked off, and Harry smiled. Good to see that Eddie wasn't dwelling on the little they'd been able to discern about his abductors, now six feet in the ground. On the contrary he seemed much more light-hearted these days.

x

_Fire; golden licks of flickering flame, faster than the eye can follow – _

_Water; deepest depth and pure black liquid, seeping into every atom in its presence –_

_Mystery; an untouchable, untainted nature, a glimpse of laughing eyes like the sound of a pipe –_

Eddie woke up.

It was dark in his room, but the pale moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains. He thought for a moment, but the dream slipped away from him like water through his fingers –

Water? Had there been… no, it was gone. His tiredness overwhelmed him and he turned back over and fell back into sleep.

When he awoke the next morning he retained no memory of ever waking in the night.


	11. Old Habits

2032

Joe was walking home late. He grinned to himself a little as he headed to the tube station; Henry had innocently suggested that morning that maybe he should work later tonight, and Joe had spotted a packet of balloons and some cake candles in the drawer. Add to that the fact that it was his thirtieth birthday today, and it wasn't difficult to figure out. He'd told Henry that he'd be home at seven, and stayed in the shop to get some work done after it had closed.

He spent the twenty minutes underground perfecting his "surprised" face in his head. When he climbed up the escalator (too impatient to stand) and left the station, he hardly noticed a couple of men fall in behind him; and it wasn't until he left the main road that they became more obvious.

The first thing he heard was a short whistle from behind him. He didn't turn around, not expecting it to have been meant for him.

"Running off home to your scum-sucker boyfriend, are you?"

The taunting wasn't drunken, but deliberate. Joe recognised the type of insult from Henry discussing muggle-hating.

"Hey, come on pet, we don't mind a bit of grub."

"Yeah, doesn't your keeper know how to share?"

Joe fought to keep calm and not break into a run. Instructions from Casper echoed in his head. _Don't rush. Don't show signs of panic. Call someone to tell them where you are. Head for busy streets or public buildings. _

Looking around without looking directly behind him, Joe couldn't see anywhere nearby that was open. He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, keeping it close to his chest and starting to dial Casper's number – and then he flinched as something invisible passed over his fingers, slicing open a shallow cut in the skin and knocking his phone out of his hands into the road.

A lorry crunched over it almost immediately and Joe heard a gleeful whoop from behind him. He paled and kept walking. They were getting closer behind him. One of them was clicking his tongue like you would for a cat. The others laughed.

"Here, kitty, kitty…"

There was a corner up ahead – and then it was only a few minutes' walk to the flat. Joe waited until he reached the corner and was temporarily out of sight of his followers, and then sped up, running at full pelt down the street. A few moments later, he heard a shout and the sounds of them giving chase.

x

Henry was fairly pleased with the way the flat looked. 'Happy Birthday!' banners were strung around the walls, there were balloons in each corner, and Joe's cake was in the kitchen ready to be brought out. And everyone had arrived in plenty of time: Zak, Eddie, Finea, Webster and Sam, Adam and Amy, Roberta, Elizabeth, Will, Matthew and Kess… Vicky, Graham, Gary, Jessica, Markian, Ron and Hermione. And Sarah had slipped back to her flat to grab her present. She reappeared next to Henry with a pop.

"Joe here yet?" she asked. Henry shook his head, smiling.

"He should be about ten more minutes," Henry said.

But it was only five minutes before Matt looked up and said,

"Hen, do you hear that?"

The conversation had fallen into a natural lull, so it was easy to know what Matthew meant. The sound of someone running in the corridor. The group went quiet, listening curiously. Henry had expected to hear a mother scolding her child, or teenagers laughing; he had not expected to hear the jangle of keys and the fumbled click as the door was unlocked. He only just had time to stand up before Joe ran into the room, face white and blood on his hands, straight into Henry's arms.

There was instant commotion around them, but Henry zeroed in on Joe, holding him tightly and rocking him gently, murmuring comforts.

"Sh, it's okay, you're okay, I'm here, it's okay…"

Joe was breathing heavily and Henry could feel him shaking, but beyond the blood on his hands he seemed to be in one piece. Henry felt his father's hand on his shoulder, guiding encouraging them both to move.

"Why don't we just go through into here for a minute," Ron said, and Henry had never been more grateful for his father's controlled response to panic. Joe turned slightly so that Henry had him under one arm, and they moved into the bedroom. The door was shut behind them and the quiet and security of the room seemed to calm Joe a little.

Henry sat them both down on the edge of the bed. Roberta had followed them into the bedroom with Ron, but the others had waited outside; Ron sat down on Joe's other side and Roberta crouched down in front of him, clearly intending to look at his hand.

"I'll just clear away some of the blood, okay?" she said. Joe nodded and Roberta siphoned away some of the mess, carefully cleaning the blood from around the wound that, Henry could now see, was only on one of Joe's hands. It was a long, clear cut that ran along the back of his hand, knuckles and index finger; the edges were raised and sore. Ron leant forward.

"Robbie, would you mind waiting a moment before you do anything?" he asked softly, glancing briefly up to Joe's expression before returning to look his daughter. The Healer nodded.

"That's fine," she said. "It's not deep."

Ron waved his wand and created a stool, and sat down so that he was in front of Joe at eye level.

"Joe?" he asked gently. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Haltingly, with Henry rubbing soothing circles on his back, Joe explained the events that had occurred after he had left the tube station.

When he got to having his phone spelled out of his hand, Ron's jaw clenched. He waited until Joe finished the story, and then spoke.

"Joe, if it's alright I'm going to call this in," he said. Joe nodded, and Ron turned to Robbie. "They'll send an MLE officer and a healer – you can treat him, but if he gets the injury verified by a Ministry healer first then the evidence is stronger."

"Alright," Robbie agreed. Ron left the room; he would only be able to apparate to the Ministry from outside the flat.

"Hey, Joe," Robbie asked quietly. "What happened after that?"

Joe swallowed. His shaking had calmed considerably, but it was still visible as a fine tremor in both hands.

"I – I saw a corner and I wasn't far away, so when I'd turned it I started running. Didn't stop until I got here."

Henry leant in and gave him a soft, reassuring kiss on the temple. Joe managed a weak smile.

"Thanks, Hen," he murmured.

Ron returned trailing a witch and a wizard – the healer and MLE officer, as he'd said. The two of them did not take too long; the healer scanned Joe with her wand and then muttered something to the MLE officer about shock and rest, and Joe was told that he'd be asked to go into the Ministry the following day to give his official statement.

"I'll take him in," Ron said. "I'll come pick you up at lunchtime, okay?"

Joe nodded gratefully. And then the fuss seemed to be over – Ron left and escorted the healer and MLE officer out with him, and Roberta was left to treat the cut on Joe's hand. As he did so, Sarah brought him a cup of hot chocolate.

"Sweet and hot," she said. "I know you're not a tea fan."

Joe smiled faintly at this. By the time he had finished the mug, his hand had been treated and he seemed a lot calmer.

"So," he said, looking a little embarrassed, "I was fairly distracted running in there, but I seem to remember a lot more people and bright colours than usual."

Henry and the other two laughed a little, and Joe joined in.

"Come on out, Joe," Henry said. "Let's see what's left. It's only been half an hour."

When they went back into the living room, everyone was still there. They stopped their quiet discussions when Joe came out and he looked sheepish.

"So, hi," he said.

"Happy Birthday to you…" Zak started to sing after a quick glance at Henry. The rest of the group joined in and with a bit of nudging Elizabeth ran into the kitchen and came back with a big chocolate cake with a candle in the top.

The rest of the party went a lot more gently than it probably would have if Joe hadn't been feeling unsettled; but it was still a very enjoyable evening. Joe stayed by Henry's side for most of it, and was glad of the distraction.

When eventually the guests had left, Henry had sat tidying the place up mostly with magic while Joe took a quick shower. He came out with damp hair, looking sleepy and worn-out. Henry pulled him into a hug.

"Bed?" he suggested. Joe nodded.

x

November saw a gathering together of Mixed Blood and Phoenix at the Theatre, not to perform or outperform each other but just to meet up and socialise. Zak had invited everyone back to his later to watch Children in Need, but it was morning for now and they were sitting around in the attic room by the computers, lounging around and chatting. Neither Eddie or Fin had made it, and there had been much discussion about why after Zak had received a text from Ezzy saying that they wouldn't be there.

However, by the time Eddie actually arrived, it was nearly half-past twelve and the discussion had turned to food.

"I still think we should head to the bakery –" Zak was saying, when the door opened. "Eddie!" he called. The others turned and everyone started talking at once.

"Thought you weren't coming," Amy said.

"Yeah, where've you and Fin been all morning?" Adam asked curiously.

Eddie just grinned, looking a little shell-shocked, but happy. Eventually the others, realising they weren't getting any answers, quietened down.

"Eddie?" Zak asked. Eddie's smile, if possible, widened.

"It's a boy," he said simply. There was a moment while everyone processed this, puzzled, then the room seemed to explode.

"Fin's had the baby?" Adam, Webster and Jack exclaimed.

"Congratulations Eddie!" Amy called, delighted.

They all crossed the room towards him and soon he was enveloped in hug after congratulatory hug.

"Jamie?" Eddie said, as Jamie reached him, "you'll be godfather?"

Jamie looked stunned but delighted.

"It'd be an honour and a pleasure," he said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder, who nodded, pleased. Between hugs, the others glanced at Zak and then away again.

"I could've sworn he'd pick Zak," Webster muttered to Sam. Eddie overheard.

"It was a pretty difficult decision," Eddie said, laughing, "but Zak's pretty much an uncle already. Anyway," he continued, "no-one's asked the most important question yet!"

The others thought about this, then Midge called out from the back of the group.

"Have you got a name, Eddie?" she asked. Eddie nodded.

"Orion," he said.

"Like the star?" Jamie asked. Eddie nodded again. The group all murmured their appreciation.

"Orion… Isaac," Eddie finished, turning to Zak. The whole group went quiet. Zak's mouth dropped open. He didn't seem to be able to talk properly. Finally he pointed at himself and managed,

"After me?"

Eddie nodded, grinning.

"After you," he said.

x

_He'd never liked the ocean. Once they'd been to the seaside. It had been a relatively warm day, and the two boys had gone swimming in the ocean – well, Dudley swam. Harry had paddled a bit where it was relatively shallow. When Dudley decided that splash fights were boring, he had grabbed Harry's head and forced him under the water, laughing with glee at the way Harry had kicked and flailed. He had let him up before Harry had passed out, but it remained the game for the rest of the afternoon, whenever Dudley could catch him. _

_It hadn't given him a fear of water, as much as it did a distrust of it. It was treacherous, unpredictable, and had to be treated with caution. And with too much of it came darkness. _

_Darkness like the inside of a cupboard. A locked cupboard. He was locked in there, and he wouldn't be let out. He had done something wrong, he didn't know – never knew – what, and he was to be left in there. It was dark, and somehow the cupboard was smaller than it had ever been, his elbows were cramped into his sides and there was no one to be heard from, he had been pushed in there like the unwanted thing that he was, and it hurt –_

Harry flinched instinctively into wakefulness. Lying still and calm in the bed he shared with Ginny, he waited patiently for his fears to subside. His nightmares were not as common as they had been, but they still happened; though this was not something he had thought of for a long time.

Taking slow, even breaths, Harry turned carefully over onto his side and got comfortable. Despite his practised calm, he could still feel something strange – as though waves were battering the outside of the safe, spell-cocooned cottage. He frowned.

Carefully, not wishing to make it dissipate, he examined the feeling. Was there danger?

The answer appeared to be no. The sensation of water he felt was not a threat, merely something unfamiliar – but at the same time something inside him felt a kinship with it. _Strange._

Harry drifted back into uneasy sleep, wondering.

x

A few days later, Finea and Eddie arrived at the Theatre, a little bundle in Finea's arms. The others all came over immediately to coo over the baby boy.

Orion Isaac Potter had the Potter jet-black scruffy hair, but his eyes, when open, were a deep clear blue. He was a quiet baby, calm and not easily disturbed. He bore all the attention well.

"He looks just like you when you were little," Amy murmured as she looked at him. Adam quirked an eyebrow at her.

"How would you know?" he asked at normal speaking volume. "You weren't exactly there."

Amy rolled her eyes and elbowed him gently in the ribs.

"Shut up. I meant in the pictures."

Eddie laughed at this. They had all seen the photographs of Eddie and Esmerelda that were on the wall in his grandparent's home alongside all the other grandchildren; the photos that were normally the subject of much teasing and conversation every year at Weasley family party.

"Hey, that's mine," Zak said quietly, grinning. Baby Orion's fingers had closed around one of Zak's firmly. The others giggled.

"He'll never let you go now, Zak," Webster teased. Finea smiled.

"My arms are getting tired," she said lightly, glancing at Eddie. "Zak, do you want to hold him for a minute?"

Zak's eyes widened, and he looked nervous.

"Are you sure? I mean… he's really little, what if I don't do it right?"

Eddie grinned.

"That's what I said. And hey, if I can do it, you can," he said, a hand on Zak's shoulder. Gingerly, cautiously, Orion was transferred from Finea's arms to Zak's, whose eyes got even wider in awe.

"He's so tiny…" he said. Eddie nodded.

"It's weird, isn't it?" he said, unable to keep the proud smile off his face. "One day he's going to be taller than me."

Zak looked up from gazing at the little bundle in his arms and raised his eyebrows at Eddie.

"Eddie, _everyone_ is taller than you."

The others laughed. Eddie stuck his tongue out at Zak.

"Not Ori," he said. "Not yet."

Zak was distracted by Orion wriggling a little in his arms and opening his mouth, his little face screwed up.

"Is he going to cry, Fin?" Zak asked worriedly. "What did I do?"

Finea glanced at the clock on the wall, smiling.

"Nothing, Zak. He'll only cry if he doesn't get what he's looking for," she said, taking Orion carefully from Zak again, who frowned, puzzled.

"What's he looking for?" he asked.

"Something you don't have," Finea said, giggling at Zak's look of realisation. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, giving Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek and heading towards the door.

"Eddie, he's so adorable," Amy said, glancing longingly after Finea. Eddie nodded.

"He's perfect," he said, smiling.

x

Seth laughed with the rest of the group as they sat bundled around one little table at The Friendly Ghost. Casper was sitting right next to him, leaning towards him with his head on Seth's left shoulder. Seth was glad that he, Joe, Dave, Liz and Sephy had managed to convince Casper to take the night off – otherwise he would have spent the evening sitting in the office working, and all of that work could wait for a few days. Casper worked too hard as it was. But right now, life was good. Henry had managed to make it here too, for once – another person who had a tendency to work far beyond the stated hours. They had been sitting there talking and laughing for a couple of hours when everything went badly, badly wrong.

One of the bar staff came running out of the back room, pushing her way through the crowd to get to Casper. He may not have technically been working, but he was still their boss, and they all knew it. The young woman bent over and whispered something in Casper's ear, who tensed immediately, and then nodded. Without a word to Seth or the others, he headed straight for the stairs and went up a few until he was head and shoulders above the crowd. Seth saw him signal to Daniel to turn off the music, and suddenly the club went quiet as the music stopped and Casper waved for everyone's attention.

"Everyone," he called out, "Listen carefully. I need you to make your way sensibly and calmly out of the main doors," he gestured to the heavy duty delivery doors that were being pulled open by Will and the young woman from a moment ago, "and wait on the pavement opposite the club. We do have a small fire, it is contained," he had to raise his voice then because of a rush of frightened whispers that were echoed through the crowd at the word 'fire', "but for some reason the alarms are not going off, so please, make your way out of the building to the pavement opposite."

People were already moving. Some were weaving through the crowd, looking for their friends. Seth and the others with him – Liz, Dave, Sephy, Joe, Henry – started to make their way to the door until Seth stopped and spoke.

"Wait, where's Casper gone?" he asked, concerned, thankful for his height as he scanned the room looking for his boyfriend.

"He'll have gone through to the hostel to get them out," Dave called to Seth over the crowd. "He'll come out of the hostel doors, he'll be fine. Keep moving!"

They reached the pavement a minute or so later, and Liz and Dave moved off to organise everyone, checking that every person knew where their friends were, making sure that no one had been left inside the building. Clearly they had rehearsed this frequently, Seth realised, because not only did the both of them know exactly what they were doing but so did the other volunteers and bar staff now working with them.

Seth waited anxiously, searching the crowd around him for Casper. Finally he saw him, leading people out of the hostel. The two met eyes, both of them relaxing slightly upon seeing the other. Then there was a loud bang from the building beside them, and they both looked around.

Part of the roof had caved in, and there were now visible flames in the upper row of windows that marked Casper, Liz and Dave's rooms. The sound of sirens filled the air and people ran out of the way of the road as fire trucks arrived and the firemen began to leap into action. There was an ambulance that arrived with the firemen, but besides a few bruises and scratches from being in a scared crowd, everyone was fine. People, particularly those from the hostel, hung on to each other and watched with wide eyes as the fire was fought; Henry was holding Joe and Dave had his arms around Liz, who was shaking. Everyone was huddling in groups, except one person. Casper stood alone, watching the fire now blazing from the building before him. He did not seem particularly frightened, or angry, or upset. He looked like someone who did not know how to feel or how to act. Seth almost reached out for him, but something held him back.

It was half an hour before the fire was completely out. Parts of the building that had been the home to so many people were blackened and crumbling. Liz, tough and bold Liz, had tears on her cheeks. Finally Casper seemed to pull himself together, and he began to organise everyone: making phone calls, calling in old favours, anything and everything to find somewhere for people to stay. Thankfully no one was badly hurt.

Seth offered his sofa and sleeping bag to Dave and Liz, who accepted gratefully; like Casper, they had lived above the club. Eventually it was three in the morning, everything seemed to have been dealt with that could be, and the four headed back to Seth's flat in silence. Seth made up his old sofa bed and dragged out his spare pillows to go with the sleeping bag, which Dave chose. Then the lights went out without conversation, and in his bedroom Seth held the tearless Casper until he stopped shaking.


	12. Carrying On

"Well?"

"We set the fire, as you instructed. But the device…"

"Tell me."

"It indicated a flare in magecraft, but it was unsteady, wavering. Nothing like the strong bursts from previous readings."

"And we're certain it wasn't Potter?"

"Yes, sir. The location and the time all indicate that it was someone in The Friendly Ghost, and none of the Potters were anywhere near there at that point. No witches or wizards, either."

A pause.

"So it's second hand, it's protecting a specific person. Who do we think that is?"

"We're not sure at the moment. The magecraft doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere else; unless it's possible for a Muggle to be a mage…"

"Well? Is it?"

"It seems unlikely, sir."

"So it has to be a witch or wizard. But who?"

"We could… do another test? That might make it clearer -"

"No. It's too risky. This one fire is suspicious enough, we don't need to attract unwanted attention."

"So what do we do?"

"Start going through files, personal history. Find everything you can about everyone in the building; pick out possibilities. See if there's anyone there with connections to the wizarding world; maybe a witch or wizard who's fallen off the map, who never went to Hogwarts. Unusual, but not impossible. Or perhaps someone who's pretending to be someone else. Don't just stand there, get on with it. Two mages have emerged, that much we know, and they're both out of our hands. We have to get to the third before Potter does."

x

The morning after the fire Seth had to leave early for his shift, but when he returned he saw Casper with a notebook and pen, deep in discussion with Liz and Dave and making copious notes. Seth silently slipped into the kitchen, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket. He put the kettle on and made four cups of coffee and brought them out into the living room with a packet of biscuits. When he put the tray down onto the coffee table with a click, the other three looked up.

"Seth," said Casper. Again, Seth could not pin down what emotion Casper was showing; he still seemed a little lost, and very tired. But he slipped his arm around Casper's waist as Casper reached gratefully for the coffee nearest to him.

"Thanks for the coffee, Seth," Dave said gratefully. "How was your shift?"

"Not bad," Seth replied. "Fairly normal. What are you three up to?" he asked curiously.

"Insurance," Liz said. "Trying to work out all the details we can, see how much we can get back." Seth nodded.

"Can we use your computer, Seth?" Casper asked. "We need to get in touch with the company and obviously almost all our records went up in smoke yesterday." Seth nodded again and fetched his laptop, asking as he did so,

"Almost?"

Casper pulled his keys out of his pocket. Attached to the key ring was a little memory stick.

"I back everything up onto this," he said. "Lucky, really."

"Casper's always prepared," said Liz. "Like a boy scout." She reached over to ruffle his hair but he dodged, scowling. Seth was glad to see some humour, and was surprised at how light-hearted the three of them seemed. He mentioned it.

"Well… we have back up plans for pretty much every possibility," Casper explained. "There's a lot to do, but if we stay on schedule we should be back to a fully operating Friendly Ghost in under six months."

Seth raised his eyebrows. Casper shrugged sheepishly.

"Boy scout," Liz muttered again to Dave.

"We've got a lot of fundraising to do, but I have a couple of friends who've already said they'll help restore the building. They're coming over tomorrow to look at the damage. Which reminds me…"

The other three fell into discussion again, and Seth sat quietly with his coffee. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or concerned that something this serious could happen without knocking Casper out of the game. He supposed it was a matter of scale; perhaps Casper did not consider a fire to be that serious, next to everything else that he'd been through.

The three of them continued late into the night – Seth eventually gave up and went to bed early, and although he vaguely remembered rolling over in his sleep in the night and gratefully finding Casper beside him, he did not know when Casper had joined him and when he had left. Seth woke up the next day to a note from Casper saying that he had to meet with some insurance people; Liz and Dave seemed to have gone with him.

This routine continued for a week or so, Seth waking early to go to his shift and barely seeing Casper except if they cooked for each other or got take away together of an evening. If Casper was not busy speaking with police and insurance companies, he was going around to other places and checking in with all the previous residents of the hostel, reassuring them that they were still safe, that he was still available as a counsellor.

Then came the bad news: according to their calculations, even with their savings and the support from local businesses in order to keep and restore the club and hostel, Casper, Liz and Dave would have to raise around twenty thousand pounds in four months. This prompted a new wave of busyness – Casper borrowed Seth's computer and printer to print hundreds of posters, sponsorship forms and fliers. They went around town handing the fliers out and collecting money in the two orange buckets that had been given to them. The posters went up everywhere that would take them; Casper emailed all of their previous supporters explaining their plight. Henry turned up one Saturday with a cheque for eighty pounds and explained that his cousins had wanted to donate some money from a dance show they had put on. Eddie was a real surprise; he and Zak arrived at cake sale that Casper was helping out with one morning and announced that for a week, whatever they raised, Phoenix would equal. Casper had been incredibly grateful, but Eddie had just brushed it off as 'the decent thing to do'.

Everyone gave generously – The Friendly Ghost had been a steady part of the local society for a solid decade, and was well-loved by all. Schools held charity cake sales and sponsored mufti days.

Perhaps this wasn't the end after all.

Casper turned over in bed, half way between sleep and waking. Seth slept deeply behind him. Casper was flicking through good memories of the last few months, a tried and tested way of enabling him to fall asleep. Every time he did it, he ended on the same one: Eddie Potter, dropping by the cake sale and announcing Phoenix's contribution to the fundraising. For some reason Casper had managed to retain that memory in almost perfect detail. He even knew exactly what Eddie had been wearing, and how he had smiled when Casper had thanked him. If he had been more awake, he may have realised that this was a strange thing to remember quite this well… but instead he just slipped into dreams. Dreams where everything was edged, as it had been for months now, with a flickering white light.

x

When Harry came down to his study one morning, Draco was already there. Harry stared at him in shock – the blond man looked ill, his face pinched and skin taut, but he was there.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked, not knowing what else to say.

"I don't know."

"But –"

"I don't remember." Draco's expression was more disturbed than Harry could ever remember seeing it before.

"What's the last thing –"

"Leaving your office, last time."

Harry swallowed.

"That was over a year ago," he said quietly. Draco looked surprised.

"I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realise…" he mumbled, and Harry was struck by how unstable he looked, standing there. He reached over and took his arm.

"Malfoy, you can't stay here," he said. "We need to get you somewhere secure where you can recover."

"Where?" Draco asked wearily. "What makes you think you can hide me anywhere?"

Hoisting Draco's arm over his shoulder, Harry allowed himself a grim smile.

"Because I've hidden people before."

x

_They were outnumbered with Death Eaters on almost all sides. Harry had his back to a tree trunk, and was glancing left and right for Ron and Hermione. Where _were_ they? He couldn't even cast spells in case it drew Death Eater attention to his location. They didn't know they were fighting The Boy Who Lived yet, and he didn't intend to let them find out – but where were Ron and Hermione?_

_The broken locket was clenched in his left hand. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the chain over his head and tucked the locket under his shirt – at least he wouldn't lose it, though it would be found if he was caught. But then, if he was caught now, very little else would matter. _

_There! He could see them, hidden behind the undergrowth to his right. They were firing spells into the midst of the Death Eaters, but when the Death Eaters fired back the plants provided poor cover. Hermione went down first, and Ron a few seconds after. The spells stopped._

"_Got them!" a voice cried. "Tricky buggers. Drag them out then, Selwyn, let's see what we've caught."_

_Panicking blindly, Harry only just thought to pull his hood over his head to obscure his identity before running out from behind the tree. The Death Eaters noticed him almost immediately, and turned._

_Harry raced towards his fallen friends, ignoring the spells flying over his head, and surely he was too late, surely he couldn't get their before –_

_And then a figure in black Death Eater robes darted out from between the trees and dragged Ron and Hermione out of the line of fire, throwing curses at his fellows._

"_TRAITOR! GET HIM!"_

_Harry hesitated, and then change direction abruptly, leading half of the remaining Death Eaters away from Ron and Hermione and their mysterious saviour. When he felt as though he had lost them, he doubled back cautiously. The Death Eaters had gone. Lying on the ground, concealed by the tree-line, were three figures. _

_Ron and Hermione were just unconscious; Harry checked their pulses quickly and was unbelievably grateful to feel the steady throbbing. Next to them lay the figure in Death Eater robes who had rescued them. He was struggling to keep himself sitting up with his back up against a tree; and when Harry turned to him he let his wand slip from his fingers and warily raised both his hands a little. _

"_Are you hurt?" Harry asked cautiously. Why had this Death Eater suddenly changed sides? Harry tightened his grip on his own wand and glanced around; was this some kind of trap? He looked back at the man on the ground._

"_Who are you?" he asked. The man made no response, but Harry could see his eyes glittering behind that bone-white mask. Did he dare…_

_Harry leant forward slowly, and slid the tip of his wand under the edge of the mask. With a swift movement, he flicked it off of the man's face._

_Snape stared back up at him, his expression nearly blank but for a slight, pained, twist of the mouth. _

_For several long, impossible seconds Harry just started at him. He couldn't make sense of it. Was this a trick? Why would Snape – but there was a way to find out. Harry looked down at the man on the ground._

"_Tell me," he said quietly. He didn't need to explain what he wanted to be told; Snape would know. The older man turned his head a little to the side. _

"_Tell me," Harry insisted again. Green eyes met black. And then, finally, Snape nodded. The older man warily picked up his wand and put its tip to his temple, extracting a long, silvery strand of memory. Harry tried quickly to remember the spell to summon a flask, but was saved from having to as Snape took one out of a pocket of his robe. He placed the memory into the flask with his wand-tip before handing the flask to Harry and letting his wand slip from his fingers again._

_After a moment of indecision, Harry straightened up. He knew what to do – what he had to do. He got a grip on Ron and Hermione, and with a crack he disapparated, pulling them with him. Once he had found their next hiding spot – it only took a few minutes – and thrown a few concealing spells over them, he returned to Snape, who was now only semi-conscious. _

_Grasping the older man's arms tightly, Harry apparated to a little abandoned cottage that he and Ron and Hermione had passed on their travels earlier that year. He left Snape inside, cast a few warming charms and concealing spells, and left a note before leaving._

_When Severus Snape woke up, he saw Harry's handwriting on a scrap of parchment. It said,_

_Wait and see._

x

Harry had intended to return to the cottage as soon as he had see Snape's memories – but the opportunity for that moment did not occur for some time. He had been badly injured in the final battle – and his recovery time was long. The Weasleys and Hermione had kept a close watch on him, and although he appreciated their care it became a little frustrating.

After around six months, he had finally found a moment to use the pensieve that he had inherited from Dumbledore in peace; and looking through those memories told him things he had never known before. He believed them; now that enough time had passed it was easier to see that the assumptions he had made had been based on very little solid evidence. Three months later, he had managed to slip out of the Burrow unnoticed and return to the cottage.

He hadn't really expected Snape to linger – but he had hoped that perhaps the man had left a note in return. So it was to his great surprise that he had found the ex-Death Eater sitting by a fire in that same cottage, staring into the flames as though he could extinguish them with his mind. _I wouldn't put it past him._

"Snape," he had said out loud. The older man had neither jumped nor reached for his wand.

"Potter," had been his only acknowledgment, his voice carefully neutral. "You know, then."

Harry had nodded.

"Yes," he had said quietly.

There must have been some kind of pity or sympathy in his tone, for this had provoked Snape to jerk around.

"Do not think that I want your simpering pity, Potter. All I want is to be left alone! Do you hear me?"

Harry had given a single nod, but refused to move.

"Do you need anything?" he had said, changing the subject and gesturing around the room. "I can get you books, food, whatever."

Snape had stared at him for a long moment, meeting his eyes, and Harry had let him.

Finally, the older man had responded.

"Books, if you have any of interest," he had said, his voice sarcastic but lacking the sharpness that it usually had. "I can manage food for myself. Wood to transfigure."

Harry had nodded again, and left. He had returned the next day with the requested items, much – he suspected – to Snape's surprise.

x

He had gone to the old cottage on the moors once a month, to check on him. The ex-Death Eater still refused to allow Harry to speak on his behalf and return to society, Harry still chafed at Snape's treating him like a child, but after time they had grown used to each other. They had never been friends; but as the years had passed, they had both found a companionable silence in each other's company. There was nothing that had needed to be said between them. No promises, no threats, no rows – just understanding.

Both of them aged – but Harry much slower. And so it came to the day when Severus Snape did not answer the door to Harry's knock.

Going inside anyway, Harry had found his old Potions Master in his armchair, his eyes closed, and no breath left in him. It could not have happened long ago.

Harry had buried Severus Snape out on the moor in a suitable place, and put such spells on the grave that would deter any person or animal from disturbing it. He had left it unmarked, but he would come back and visit the spot for several years until a bad storm disturbed the soil and the grass. He wasn't sure entirely where the grave was anymore, but he decided that Snape wouldn't have minded. It quite suited the man, actually.

The cottage itself he had cleared out. Those things that could go to other homes he sent to them – Snape had not approved of waste – and anything that could identify its owner he burnt, and buried the ashes. He kept the Potions books, and after going through them for any identifying marks and finding none he gave them to Hogwarts one at a time, as though he had "found them" in the second-hand bookstore.

He knew that now Snape was dead he was free of their deal – he could tell the world of the man's true loyalties. But he said nothing, not even to Ron and Hermione. And in an odd way, it was a show of respect.

To this cottage now, however, he took the weakened Draco Malfoy. It was still well-warded, and he left Draco there for an hour or so while he collected some necessities.

"I'll be by tomorrow," he said quietly as Draco lowered himself gratefully onto the bed provided. "Try to get some rest."


	13. Holding Fast

He returned regularly over the next few months, but though Draco recovered much of his strength his memories were still irretrievable. Harry spoke to Ron briefly about what had happened, but they both agreed that it shouldn't be made common knowledge, so as to keep Draco's safety intact.

x

Three and a half months had passed since the fire; three and a half months of solid work. Casper had been up at all hours, purple-eyed and pale, yet he had still managed to be as lively and cheerful as ever at every event they held. The money had come pouring in and when he was at Seth's Casper was most often seen leaning over Seth's laptop, using spreadsheets and a calculator to check and double-check figures, make predictions, confirm targets.

And then the four months was up, and they were sitting as a group of four in Seth's living room; Liz sprawled on the floor in front of the coffee table, Dave in the armchair and Casper and Seth on the sofa. Casper was just adding a few final figures together. Then he nodded to himself.

"Well?" Liz asked impatiently. "You've kept all the numbers to yourself for weeks, Cas – have we done it?"

There was a pause. Then Casper shook his head, once. Dave leant over, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Liz stared blankly, unseeing, at the edge of the coffee table in front of her. Seth was looking at Casper, whose expression had not changed.

"We've raised a grand total," Casper said quietly, "of seven thousand, six hundred and eighty-one pounds and thirty-six pence. That's twelve thousand, three hundred and eighteen pounds and sixty-four pence short."

There was absolute silence. Seth did not know what to say. Then Casper spoke again, his expression still calm and unchanged, if a little grim.

"We'll have to sell the property off," he said. "We all know that there have been a few people around who have been asking about it; I'll see what I can do to get the best deal; Mr Mires will be meeting us tomorrow, he's been the highest bidder so far. We can use those funds to set up somewhere else, start again.

Mr Mires, Seth knew, was the representative for a company that wanted to buy the building and put up – well, anything they liked. Maybe flats. Seth wasn't sure. But he did know that having to find somewhere else to set up The Friendly Ghost would almost certainly be a disaster. There was nowhere local they could find, so in order to set up again they'd have to be seven miles across the city – far away from the community that had supported them for so long. They could start again, but it would have to be from the ground up.

Casper did not hesitate any longer. Picking up his mobile phone from the coffee table, he stood and walked to the window as he made call after call; sometimes arranging to call back, sometimes discussing figures and possible meetings. Liz, unable to listen, walked out of the flat. Dave followed her. But Seth stood and moved next to Casper. He did not reach out for him, knowing that if he did Casper would shake him off, but he stood there, within arms reach, wishing that he could help.

x

The next day, they had arranged to meet Mr Mires and his lawyer just outside The Friendly Ghost; Casper had agreed that unless they could find another solution by five o'clock that day, they would sign the papers and sell the property to Mr Mires. Liz and Dave were there, but not Casper. Mr Mires frowned, shuffling from foot to foot in the cool breeze.

"Well, where is he?" he asked impatiently. "Everything's in his name, we need him to sign it over."

"It's not five o'clock yet," Dave said shortly. He was right; it was still a quarter to five. Mr Mires tapped his foot crossly, but said nothing.

x

Casper was on his way to the meeting, but he was still around ten minutes away, walking through a park, when a voice called out to him.

"It's Casper Livingston, isn't it?"

Casper turned and saw a middle-aged man standing several feet away, looking at him curiously. He nodded.

"That's me, and I'm sorry, but I have to be somewhere," he said, starting to walk away again.

"You've got a moment, surely?" the stranger asked, and Casper paused.

"I suppose," he said, after a moment. The stranger gestured to the park bench a few feet away, and Casper sat down next to him. Casper was unsurprised that the stranger had recognised him; there had been several articles in the local papers about their situation, normally featuring his face, and he had been recognised once or twice in the last few months. He looked at the stranger closely, and realised suddenly how familiar he was, and how unfamiliar at the same time.

Black hair, slightly untidy, and pale skin like ivory; however the almond-shaped eyes were not a stormy blue-green-grey but a vivid, emerald green, and although the face was unlined it was somehow older. Casper put two and two together.

"You're Eddie Potter's father, aren't you?" he asked. The older man nodded.

"Harry Potter, pleased to meet you," he said, holding out his hand for Casper to shake. Casper did, wondering what he was doing here.

"I heard you've been doing loads of fundraising," Harry Potter said, watching Casper curiously, who nodded. "Eddie said your building burnt down and you're trying to raise the funds to rebuild it and pay off some debts."

Casper gave half a humourless smile.

"The fire started in the office; all our records went up in smoke," he said. "Then the insurance company's copies… well, they're saying they never had them." He shook his head. "I signed them myself, but I can't prove it."

"How much do you owe?" Harry Potter asked quietly.

"Over twelve thousand pounds," Casper responded equally quietly. They sat in silence for a minute more, before Casper stood up.

"I have to go," he said, "I've got to sign over the property, I'll be late if I'm not careful and then I really will be in trouble." Harry Potter nodded and stood too, taking something out of his pocket.

"Can I just – sorry, slightly stupid thing to ask, but could I just lean on your back to write on this?" Harry Potter asked apologetically. Casper gave a short laugh and turned around obligingly.

"No problem, but be quick," he said.

"I will," the older man responded. And he was. He folded the slip of paper and handed it to Casper, who took it, confused.

"I don't understand," he said, frowning. Harry Potter smiled.

"Well, when I have plenty of it I might as well use it for something worthwhile," he said. Casper's eyes widened, and he unfolded – the cheque.

"Do me a favour, though," Harry Potter said, "don't mention my name unless you need to? I'd rather stay in the background. And now," he finished, looking at his watch, "I think you really might be late. You might have to run." Casper took a moment to process this before realising what it meant. He turned and sprinted away, calling back over his shoulder.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

He heard the older Potter laughing behind him, but he had no time to stop – he ran out of the park and down the street, the cheque clutched tightly in his left hand. He reached the meeting point with three minutes to spare, gasping for breath.

"Ah, finally Mr Livingston," Mr Mires said. "We almost thought that you were not going to arrive. Now, we have the papers here, if you'll just sign –" but he stopped there, staring at Casper, who was grinning and fighting for breath.

"I'm not," Casper managed, getting his breathing under control, "signing anything." The other four looked at him, confusion written on every face. Casper showed the cheque to Liz and Dave, keeping his thumb over the name. Their eyes went wide and delighted when they realised what it was and what it meant.

"Mr Mires, we have found another solution," Casper said cheerfully. "Sorry for wasting your time, but we won't be selling to you today."

Mr Mires' face went an odd shade of purple, but he said nothing.

"Well then," Casper said to the others, grinning, "I'm going to walk to the bank and pay it in – Dave, Liz, Sephy, care to join me? You can come too if you like," he finished, nodding at Mr Mires, who scowled and stormed off without another word, his lawyer in tow. There was a second's more tension, and then the group seemed to explode. Liz and Dave wrapped their arms around Casper, who was laughing in delight.

"I can't believe it," Liz murmured as she embraced him, giggly, bubbling over with excitement and relief.

"Who gave it to you?" Dave asked, equally delighted.

"I can't _possibly_ say," Casper answered, beaming. "They wanted to remain anonymous." Liz had tears in her eyes as they all held onto each other. Casper was the one to eventually let go.

"Come on, come on," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Let's head to the bank."

They made their way there in such high spirits that it was surprising they did not actually dance.

"It's a shame Seth's on his shift," Liz said. "He wanted to see you before the meeting, but he had to be at the hospital before five."

Casper nodded.

"It's okay, I'll send him a text and meet him later," he said cheerfully. "In the meantime, I think a party is in order, don't you?" The others all agreed and Casper called around everyone he could. Liz, Dave and Casper headed back to Seth's flat to get changed before they headed to a friend's place for a well-earned celebration.

Everyone who heard the news was thrilled; Casper seemed to have the same conversation over and over, but he did not care.

"Yes, we've got the money! Enough to pay off what we have to and to have a bit to spare!"

"No, I can't say who gave it to us, they wanted to stay anonymous."

"I can't believe it, I really can't!"

"It's still going to take some time to get up and running again, but we know it's happening now!"

And then, the crown jewel of the evening, Casper received a phone call from the personal assistant to Ms Jane Winterfields, saying that the lady in question had returned from her long-term project in Japan and could not believe how much she had missed. She would be there to visit in a few days and she hoped they were all doing well. Casper, Liz and Dave had not seen Ms Winterfields for six years now, so this extra piece of news really was the icing on the cake.

The party was fantastic; what seemed like hours passed, all jumbled together made of well-wishers and congratulations and cheers. Casper felt nearly giddy with all the excitement, so he was grateful for the excuse to go out and get a little fresh air and quiet when his phone rang.

"I'll be back in a minute – phone!" he half-said, half-gestured to Dave over the noise of the music. Dave nodded and gave him the thumbs up. Casper thought his face might fall off with all the grinning, but he couldn't seem to stop. He answered it and spoke quickly.

"One minute – too loud in here to hear you – I'm going outside."

He made his way through the crowd as quickly as he could, heading out through the front door. Once he was away from the noise, he brought the phone to his ear again.

"Hello? Sorry to keep you waiting," he said.

"Casper Livingston?" said a female voice on the other end.

"Speaking," Casper replied.

"I'm sorry to be bearing bad news, but I'm afraid Mr Seth Baines was brought into the Royal Hope Hospital about fifteen minutes ago, very seriously injured. In the absence of his parents who are currently unavailable, you are the next person we have down on his record to contact. Can you get to the hospital from where you are?"

Casper's world spun, but he answered.

"Yeah, yeah I can." He headed down the street, looking for a taxi to hail. "Where do I go when I get there?"

The woman on the other end of the line explained where to go and what to do, and Casper listened, taking every detail in. He finally got a taxi – "Royal Hope Hospital, please," – and was half-way there when the call ended. He put the phone in his pocket. He stared forward, watching the road, anticipating every turn, every stop and start, calculating how long in minutes it would take to get there if this light was red, if this crossing was busy, if this junction was clogged. He focused on the calculations, avoiding any other thoughts. They reached the hospital and Casper fled the taxi as soon as he had paid, running in through the main entrance, following signs and reciting the instructions he had been given over and over in his mind until he reached his destination and was shown through to – another corridor.

There was a nurse waiting there who talked to him for a few minutes, and phrases like _broken bones_ and _possible concussion_ and _internal bleeding_ and _emergency surgery_ were among the few that pierced the fog. She then asked him a question, and Casper did not quite listen but responded vaguely in the affirmative and was shown through to a waiting room of hard plastic chairs and the smell of disinfectant.

And then nothing happened.

Casper's mind would not slow down to start with; he had spent the last half an hour so caught up in getting somewhere, doing something, that when he was put in that empty, still room his mind was still racing around and around in circles until finally it, too, succumbed to the numbness that seemed to be creeping through his entire body. He sat completely still after a while, only his eyes moving, and occasionally his knuckles whitening around the edges of the chair when someone passed by the door of the waiting room.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Still nothing.

Finally, a doctor opened the door to the little waiting room and leant in.

"Casper Livingston?" he asked. Casper nodded and stood up, his muscles screaming at the sudden motion, feeling as though he had not moved in a hundred years. He followed the Doctor out of the waiting room, along one corridor then another, past a hundred people and things that would normally have drawn his attention. But he only followed, his eyes fixed on the back of the doctor's coat so that he would not lose track of the man if they went through a crowd.

Eventually, they entered a hospital room. In the centre of the room was a hospital bed. And on that bed, swathed in blankets and bandages, was Seth.

Casper swallowed, and somehow managed to find his voice. It was croaky and sore from lack of use.

"What happened?" he asked, unable to take his eyes away from Seth. The doctor did not seem surprised that Casper did not know, even though he had had it explained to him by the nurse only a few hours ago. The doctor raised his clipboard and flicked through a few sheets of paper, finding the one he was looking for after a moment.

"It seems the ambulance was hit by a motorcycle that lost control on the ice," he said. "Mr Baines was thrown a considerable distance. Lucky the door was open, or he'd be in worse shape – his partner was killed."

Casper stared at Seth, still unable to look away, struggling to process what he had just been told. The doctor seemed to understand his difficulty, and gave him a few moments. Eventually, Casper gathered himself enough to speak again.

"Will he be alright?"

The doctor moved a step or two closer, perhaps seeking to comfort without losing his professionalism.

"He has several broken ribs and a fracture in his left leg, as well as several fractures in his arm, all on the left side. The bruising is quite severe, and there have been a few touch and go moments; but all in all," the doctor continued, his voice calm, "he's been very lucky. The next few days will be a little fragile, but he's a fit and healthy man; his recovery should be slow but sure."

Casper nodded vaguely.

"You can stay if you need to, but obviously you must not disturb him or disrupt any of the people working here."

With that, and probably a kind smile that Casper did not see, the doctor left the room. Casper walked over to the hospital bed with wooden legs and sank into yet another uncomfortable plastic chair.

He did not leave until nine o'clock the next morning when Seth's parents arrived from their holiday in Wales, at which point he quietly slipped out of the door without speaking and headed back to Seth's flat. He changed his clothes quickly, took the laptop from the coffee table along with his notebook, and walked back to the hospital.


	14. Downward Spiral

**A/N: For info on why the posting of this fic mysteriously stopped for a few weeks, go here: hermitknut dot livejournal dot com forward slash 75575 dot html.**

**For regular information about the status of this fic, please see my profile.**

x

Seth sat up slowly as his father carefully rearranged the pillows behind him. When he was done, Seth sank gratefully back into them.

"Thanks," he said, smiling faintly. His mother leant over and took his hand.

"We're just glad to see you awake and smiling, sweetheart," she said, and Seth could see the worry in her own smile. He grasped her hand tighter and nodded, trying to reassure her without words. It had been three days since the accident, and Seth was still struggling to process what had happened. He felt weak and tired and shaky, and although he was glad that his parents were here he could not help missing the one person he had yet to see. Making as best attempt at casual as he could, he spoke.

"I don't suppose you've seen Casper, have you?" he asked. He could see from the looks his parents exchanged that he probably had not hidden his feelings very well.

"There was a young man the first day we were here," his mother said, thinking.

"He left the room just as we walked in, didn't he Janet?" his father said. "Little bit shorter than average, dark brown hair, freckles."

"That's Casper," Seth said, slightly confused. So Casper had come to see him – but had he not come back since? Maybe he did not like hospitals and he had only come in once to make sure Seth would be okay, and was waiting for him at home? No, that could not be right; Seth had seen Casper in the hospital before now, he knew he had no problems with them.

_But he must be busy,_ Seth argued to himself. _Bringing The Friendly Ghost back is going to take a lot of work, and Casper will have to take the lead._ Yes, that argument sounded convincing. However, it did not make Seth feel much better. _Stop being so selfish_, he scolded himself. _Casper has to carry on, he can't stop everything just for you_.

But as he talked about mundane, simple topics with his parents – Cousin Helen had just had a row with her husband and moved out, wasn't the weather unpleasant for this time of year, there's a new Marks and Spencer's opened where Woolworths used to be – he could not help but feel ever so slightly abandoned.

x

"If you'll excuse me for a minute, I'll be right back."

Ezzy gave Iris a bright smile and left the group, darting through the crowd to the hall as quickly as dignity would allow. She spotted Zak in a corner behind the door to the lounge, fidgeting nervously. He jumped guiltily when he saw her.

"Hey, Ez… I was just… um. Well, I just thought I'd…" he stuttered.

Ignoring him, Ezzy gave a quick glance around. The hall was empty. She took a step forward, slid her arms around him and kissed him.

Needless to say, he stopped stuttering. She smiled as she pulled back. Zak looked nervous still, but pleased.

"Um… hello to you too," he said. Esmerelda shook her head.

"They're really not that bad, you know," she said. Zak raised his eyebrows sceptically.

"Okay, who's out there masquerading as my family and making you think they're 'not that bad'?", he said. Ezzy giggled, and then Zak joined in for a minute.

"I'm sorry I went and hid," he said, apologetically. His fiancée shook her head again, a couple of wisps of black hair falling out of her elegant bun as she did so.

"It's alright, I understand," she said. "I can hardly work out how you grew up the way you have, you're so different from them."

Zak grinned.

"I repel all normal parenting techniques," he said cheerily. Ezzy laughed.

"Why am I not surprised?" she asked.

After another courage-building kiss, Esmerelda reached out and took Zak's hand in hers.

"Come on," she said teasingly. "Once more unto the breach!"

And the two of them fought to stifle laughter as they returned to the party.

x

It had been a week since the accident, and Dave and Liz were waiting for Casper at the new, temporary, "Friendly Ghost". After some expert prodding and poking around by a builder friend of theirs, they had discovered that a few of the back rooms of the building were still fit for use – just about. They had set up a little office there, and a place for people to sit and chat. Dave and Liz were currently sitting on the two chairs there, waiting for Casper to show up. They had been waiting for around half an hour.

Casper had practically vanished earlier that week. In the last seven days he had barely been available, leaving notes for Liz and Dave at their new temporary residences or texting them with instructions. When they did see him – which was even rarer given that as of two weeks ago they were no longer staying with Seth, but with friends of their own – he was rushed, busy, always in the middle of doing something or on his way somewhere else. They had not seen Seth since before the party, and Joe had already pointed this out as a bad sign. So if Casper was determined to avoid them, then they were equally determined to find out what was going on, even if it meant waiting there all night.

Liz tapped her foot impatiently as she read her magazine, and scowled when Dave shushed her.

"I think that's him," Dave said, ignoring her expression, which completely changed when she, too, heard the footsteps outside.

The door swung open, and Casper walked in, his folder full of paperwork under one arm and Seth's laptop under the other. He grinned cheerfully when he saw them, as usual, but in the few seconds that he had thought himself unobserved, his face had been pale and exhausted.

"Hey Casper," Dave started. "Can we talk to you for a minute or two?"

Casper walked over to their little office space – really just a desk and chair and a filing cabinet – and started rummaging through the filing cabinet, checking papers against the ones in his folder.

"Course you can," he said, glancing up from his work and then back again. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

Casper was not really listening; in his mind he was checking through everything he needed, making sure he had done everything that needed to be done and going over his to do list. More importantly, he was tracking the amount of time before he could return to the hospital's little internet café where he had been able to work and still be within a three minute walk of Seth.

"We wanted to talk to you properly, Cas, when you're not in the middle of doing something else," Dave said, nodding meaningfully to the third chair by his and Liz's. Casper may not have been listening but something in Dave's tone set off warning signals. He finished the paperwork-swapping that he needed to do and walked swiftly over to the chair, sitting down, mentally making some space for this conversation in his internal schedule.

"Well?" he asked. Liz and Dave looked at each other, and then back at him.

"We've just been a bit worried about you lately, mate," he said warily. "You've… not really been yourself."

There was a pause. Casper checked the time on his phone. Liz shifted in her seat, and then spoke, cautiously.

"We haven't seen anything of Seth, either," she said. Both Dave and Liz were watching him closely, Casper realised. Did he really look that bad?

"I've just been really busy, that's all," Casper said, playing innocent. "I've got a lot of work to do – you know as well as I do that if we're going to get this thing off the ground we need to do it while we've still got recognition, otherwise we really will have to build it from scratch again."

Dave nodded.

"We know, mate," he said. "But… look, it just seems like there's been more going on than that. And what with Seth not being around, well, Joe's said it and I can see where he's coming from…"

"What?" Casper asked.

"We were wondering if you two are okay?" Liz asked. Casper looked from Liz to Dave and back again, not knowing quite how to react to this.

"Look," he started. "I'm fine. Yes, I'm busy, yes, I'm a bit stressed out – but that's hardly my fault, alright? I'm working bloody hard to sort this out, would you rather I just backed off and left the whole thing to you two?"

Dave raised his hands in the air; Liz looked a little surprised.

"We're not having a go at you, mate," Dave said carefully. "Of course it's good that we're all working hard, and you're working harder than any of us. You've just seemed a bit off, and –"

"And you thought you'd stick both your noses into my business, is that it?" Casper said. _I've had enough of this._ "Well, guess what? I'm not doing anything that I don't usually do, and if I was it'd be none of your damn business." He stood up. "If you don't mind," he said sarcastically, furious, "I've got work to do and I need to get on with it."

With that he turned, picked up the laptop and folder again, and walked out of the door.

The second that the door slammed shut behind him he stopped, doubts in his mind. But the irrational fury was still present, and so he pushed his doubts aside and continued back to the hospital.

x

Four weeks passed. Seth was still in hospital, having suffered some complications but pulled through. He was tired, and slept a great deal to begin with. He had seen Casper once or twice, but only briefly – Seth would wake up to him there and then Casper would mutter something about having paperwork to do and phone calls to make and Seth could not justify keeping him there when it was clear there was nothing he could do.

The Friendly Ghost was pulling together again. There had been less damage than they had originally thought, and thanks to the local church they now had a hall that they used for free every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon only a few minutes down the road. Liz and Dave were there that Thursday, watching some of the lads who would normally come along to the youth group play football, shouting as the foam ball went flying across the room. There were another few tables set up on one side of the room, and some of the kids were sitting and chatting, texting, and even doing a bit of homework in one or two cases.

A few people who had been staying at the hostel were also there, chatting with Liz and Dave about various comings and goings, when Casper arrived.

"Hey Casper!"

"Hi Cas!"

Casper nodded and grinned at everyone who had greeted him, making his way across the hall to Liz and Dave. He still had not spoken to them about Seth or what had happened to change his behaviour so much, but Joe had done a little digging around and managed to find out that Seth was in hospital. They had more or less left Casper to his own devices after that, hoping that he knew that if he did need them, they would be there. But he seemed to have drifted even further away. He spent even more time away from The Friendly Ghost, and although all the paperwork – the official part of his job – was completed on time and correctly, they hardly saw him. They knew he was not at the hospital, because Joe had popped in to visit Seth, and Seth had told them that he had hardly seen Casper for weeks.

"Hey, Casper," Dave called. He and Liz had talked about this for several days, but eventually decided that whatever this was, it had to stop. They had been uncertain to begin with about bringing this up in such a public space but eventually agreed that Casper would probably respond better when he had to maintain a façade of civility. Casper nodded back with barely a turn of the head, so involved in rummaging through his folder of paperwork.

"Casper, we know you've been really busy," Liz began, keeping her tone light and casual, aware that everyone in the room was pretending not to listen, "but we haven't really seen you for ages. We were wondering if you'd be around tomorrow?"

Casper still did not look up, continuing to sort paper.

"I don't have a shift tomorrow," he said. Liz glanced at Dave before continuing.

"I know, Cas, but you haven't had a shift for weeks."

At this Casper looked up at her.

"You know I've got a lot of other work to do – I thought you said that we had enough people to cover me?" he asked, frowning.

"We do, mate," Dave stepped in. "But it's… well…"

There was a silence as he struggled to find the words. Technically, Casper was doing nothing wrong, or strange. As the owner and manager, Casper was responsible for all the technical and fiddly bits and pieces, and was not expected to work a councillor's shift like the rest of them. But he always had. Casper had always been so adamant that working as a counsellor was what he lived for, he had always taken extra shifts whenever he could fit them in; to the point that it was almost beyond disturbing to see him denying the role he had always taken on without question.

"Cas, this isn't like you," Liz said gently. "You're never here; you've lost track of who's working which shifts; you barely know what day it is; you might be pulling the paperwork through but you're all over the place, Casper!" She had to raise her voice at the end of it because Casper had finished with his paperwork and was starting to walk away. He stopped at his name, and turned around.

"Alright," he said. "Alright. What do you want me to do?"

The hall was still and quiet; everyone had picked up on the edge in Casper's voice. Liz and Dave exchanged another glance, uncertain as to where this was going.

"We just want you to give yourself a break, mate," Dave said quietly. "We're worried about you; want to see you like you used to be."

There was another pause, and then Casper's expression was set in a hard, angry line.

"Fine." The word thudded into the silence like a brick. "Fine."

He dropped the folder full of paperwork on the floor with a slap.

"I'll stop. Is that what you want?"

The younger lads were watching Casper wide-eyed. Like everyone else in the hall, they had never seen him lose his temper before. Casper did not seem to notice.

"I'll stop, and do nothing, and leave you two to deal with all the work, shall I?" he said, his voice shaking with anger. "Is that what I used to do? Is it?" He spread his arms. "What did I used to be? Go on, tell me, what is so wrong with me that I can't even try and do my job without you two on my case?"

"You used to care," said Liz quietly. She had not meant to say it out loud, but there it was. Casper barely reacted, just dropped his arms to his sides and shook his head. He gave a short, humourless laugh.

"And I don't anymore?" he asked. "Congratulations, you finally noticed." The bitter sarcasm was worse to hear than any shouting. "Take me away, lock me up, because guess what? I don't give a _shit_ about this anymore. That's it, I'm done." He turned around and stalked over to the door. When he reached it, he stopped briefly.

"Well done for caring," he said, his voice caustic. "Have fun with this stupid, _pointless_ project."

And then he was gone.


	15. Waiting Arms

The next day, and Casper was helping Seth settle back in at his flat. There was not a lot to do, because Casper had been living there while Seth had been in hospital and had kept it in a good state, but Seth was surprised how dusty and unused it looked. _Like no one's been living here_, he thought, frowning. Shaking his head, he went into the kitchen to open the window and air the place before putting the kettle on.

"Casper," he called, "what biscuits did we grab, I've forgotten already?"

There was the noise of a rustling plastic bag.

"Just digestives," Casper called back, but there was something odd and unfamiliar about his voice. Seth stopped what he was doing.

"Cas, are you okay?" he asked. There was no answer. He walked out of the little kitchen area and into the living area and saw Casper sitting with his back to him on the sofa, bent over slightly, shoulders hunched. Seth walked around so that he could see Casper's face, and to his utter shock, Casper had tears running down his face. Seth knelt down in front of Casper, placing his hands gently on Casper's knees.

"Casper? Sweetheart? What's wrong?" he asked softly, deeply concerned. Casper did not reply, but the tears came thicker and faster and he began to shake.

"Casper?"

"I just – I just – I j-just –" Casper's voice was shaking between sobs, and Seth fought not to take him in his arms, knowing Casper better than that. "I j-just… I've lost – I – I've l-lost _everything_ and I can't – I can't –"

"Okay, Cas, okay, shh," Seth said, leaning in slightly, trying to meet Casper's eyes. "Tell me what's happened, sweetheart," he said gently. "A little bit at a time."

Casper swallowed, but couldn't seem to stop crying.

"I was _fine_ when mum kicked me out," he managed, his breathing fast and jagged, "I was _fine _when Marathon left, I was _fine,_" for a few seconds the sobs overwhelmed him, "I was _fine _when we lost the Ghost, because it – doesn't – matter –" The shaking was worse now, his whole body wracked with sobbing.

A few minutes more. Seth had Casper's hands in his and was rubbing soothing circles on the palms.

"And then you – y-you – I thought you were g-going to _die _and my head j-just _stopped_ and – and – and I r-realised that I _don't care anymore_…"

He was gasping for breath between sobs, his eyes shining with tears.

"I wasn't g-going to – to – to say anything, but – but then Liz and Dave," he swallowed, fighting the tears for breath, "Liz and Dave were all over me about not being there to see them and I just blew up in their faces in front – in f-front of _everyone_ and then I quit, so that's it, I don't have Ghost anymore, it's over, I've lost it, and part of me doesn't care…" He looked up at Seth, expression devastated. "Part of me doesn't give a _shit_ about Ghost because I've got you. But that's no good," he almost laughed, a hysterical edge to it, still crying, "because someday you'll be gone and maybe it won't be your fault or mine but it won't matter because I'll have lost you and then there'll just be nothing, and – and – and – and –"

The sobs overwhelmed him again, fierce and painful crying consuming him. Seth felt as though his heart had stopped when Casper had looked at him.

"Oh, _Casper_," he breathed, no idea how to react, his hands tightening slightly around Casper's. He let a moment or two pass, trying to process what he had just heard. Then, making a decision, he swallowed, and spoke gently.

"Casper, I… I haven't said this before, because… because if I'm honest," he said, his voice slightly ashamed, "if I'm honest I've been scared that if I say it, if I hold on to you too tightly, I'll scare you off and you'll slip away, and I'll never find you again." Casper seemed to cry harder at this, stuttering sobs and harsh breathing. Seth continued.

"But it's true," he murmured. "And I don't care if you can't believe me yet, I'm just going to keep saying it until you do." He took a moment, swallowing, his throat dry.

"I love you. I love you, and I'm never going to leave you."

There was quiet for a moment, only the sounds of Casper's sobs breaking the silence. Seth decided not to push it.

"Casper, tell me what you want," he said softly. "Let me help you."

There was a pause, and then Casper looked back up at Seth and the pain was raw in his eyes.

"Just…" he took a breath, tears still running down his cheeks. "I know it's – I know it's silly, but will you – will you j-just hold onto me?" Seth gave a sad smile and nodded.

"Always, sweetheart."

Seth moved to sit next to Casper on the sofa, wrapping his arms around him as Casper curled up against his chest.

They sat like that for a long time, Seth occasionally moving slightly for comfort. All the time Casper cried, and Seth's heart ached for the ability to reach into Casper's mind and take out everything that was hurting him.

The sun set.

The room became darker and darker.

Finally, Seth moved his arms around and said, gently,

"I'm going to put you to bed now, sweetheart."

Casper nodded. He was quieter now, not hysterical as before, but the tears were still flowing steadily. Seth carefully helped Casper to his feet, regretting that he could not pick him up and carry him as he would normally have done, and they made their way into Seth's bedroom to sleep.

x

The next morning came slowly out of the darkness before it, and Seth woke up first. He lay still, looking at Casper next to him in the morning light.

Casper was still curled up next to Seth, his head pressed against Seth's chest, his arms folded up so that his hands could clutch Seth's shoulders in his sleep. His brown hair, slightly too long to be tidy, was spread across the pillow. His eyes closed and the skin around them still a little red, he was frowning in his sleep, but otherwise completely relaxed. Seth gently ran a hand through his hair, and Casper murmured quietly in his sleep.

Turning his head slightly, Seth managed to carefully reach for his phone on the bedside table and switch it on without disturbing Casper. He sent a quick message to Liz and Dave, telling them that Casper was not feeling well and to text Seth if they wanted to come around, and then waited quietly, letting Casper sleep.

Shortly he got a reply.

_Tell him his resignation was not accepted, but he's taking a holiday whether he likes it or not. Look after him for us :) Liz and Dave._

He smiled softly, put the phone carefully back on the bedside table, and closed his eyes again as he lay curled up with Casper, resolving not to get up until Casper did.

x

Time passed. Life returned to a relative norm. Political posturing between those for and against integration with the muggle world took place with no real success on either side.

Draco's memory had not returned, and so he remained in Harry's cottage for much of his time. Occasionally he borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak or brewed a little Polyjuice potion so as not to be permanently confined, but he had confessed that after so many years of looking over his shoulder it was quite pleasant to have some peace.

Eddie and Finea had a second child after Orion, a girl called Eoife. They had a house, also in Godric's Hollow, where Zak and Ezzy lived with them. Orion turned ten; and Eoife nine.

A summer night. Orion lay in bed, tossing and turning. He could feel rage building him like it always did, like a tidal wave coming from his chest and overwhelming his mind. As always it was raw and wild; and as always, it had no logical cause.

Though it was always worse at night.

Orion's eyes flicked open and he gazed around his room desperately, the blackness of magecraft seeping out from his tear ducts. He took in everything in his rooms, checking the books on the shelf against the list in his mind, ticking off the presence of everything. _That was there and this was here…_

Breathing heavily but otherwise still, gradually he forced himself to calm. No one understood why he always woke up this way; every night, several times. Desperately chasing something he couldn't see, and forced to check the room thoroughly for something that wasn't there.

It was more than just childish fears, he knew; more than being frightened of 'the monster under the bed'. The monster wasn't under the bed. Sometimes Orion wondered if it was in his own mind…

Temporarily satisfied to confirm that there was nothing unusual in his room, ten-year-old Orion sat up in bed with his back to the wall, drawing his knees up to his chin. Strange.

More and more now, he had to stop what he was doing and look carefully around himself. The feeling that something invisible was present was incredibly strong, and bewilderingly, it _hurt._ This was something he _should_ be able to see. But he couldn't. In his dreams it wore masks – it was an object, like his desk or his book or his quill, or it was a person, his sister or his cousins or his parents – but when he ripped the mask away it vanished, leaving him with only a hint of white in his peripheral vision and the faint sound of a pipe.

Normally he could feel himself calming by this point, but tonight appeared to be worse than usual. Swallowing and pressing his back into the wall again, he debated calling out. Uncle Zak and Auntie Ezzy were in the room on one side, his parents were across the hall… and his sister was on the other side of him. He grimaced. He didn't like waking Eoife up. She was only one year younger than him, but he still felt responsible when she came down to breakfast yawning and rubbing her eyes. Instead, he steeled himself, and forced himself to get out of bed and walk into the hall.

It was even more difficult to keep moving once he was on the landing. The very air seemed to be staring at him when he wasn't looking; and with every rustle of his pyjamas he thought he could hear whispering behind his back. Barefoot and quick so that he wouldn't have time to think about it, he knocked softly on the door to his aunt and uncle's room.

"Uncle Zak?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"

He waited, fidgeting in the cool night air, until the door was opened and a bleary-eyed Zak slipped outside.

"Hey, Ori," he said, unsurprised and weary. He reached out to ruffle the young boy's hair. "Kitchen?" he asked, yawning. Orion nodded, and they made their way downstairs.

A few minutes later, they were both sitting at the kitchen table, half-mugs of hot chocolate in hand. They tended to speak very little during sessions like this, both exhausted, but unable to do anything else.

Orion had been having these nights for as long as he could remember; his parents believed it had started when he had been around two and a half years old. To Eddie's distress, Orion had reacted badly to him, and only a little better to Finea. Only Zak could calm Orion down sufficiently, and through much discussion this had eventually led to Zak and Esmerelda moving in with them. The experts of St Mungo's were at a loss; Orion did not respond to normal sleeping potions, and even a very carefully used stunning spell didn't stop him from waking in the night as usual, staring around himself in fear.

Zak watched the ten-year-old as they sat together. He always felt a nagging guilt when this happened, as though he was usurping Eddie's place. Finea could help Orion to an extent, but she couldn't be woken without waking Eddie, which Orion tended to avoid. It wouldn't be until the morning when Eddie saw the dark shadows under both Zak and Orion's eyes that he would know they had been up again. And then Finea would notice too, and put a comforting hand on his arm, and ask Orion if he felt alright. And Orion would shrug and mumble something, refusing, as always, to communicate properly in front of his father.

No one knew what could have caused Eddie and Orion's relationship to be so strained. It had been that way since Orion had been a baby. He had been content to be held by Finea, and animated around Zak, but whenever Eddie had picked him up he had cried. They had joked about it at first, but as infantile tears became toddler tantrums when Eddie reached for him, it became less and less funny. Eddie barely reacted to it anymore; just tightened his jaw and tried to continue as normal. But he couldn't play with his son, only his daughter, and even that wasn't always possible. If little Orion saw Eoife playing with their father, he would pull her away to play with him instead.

When Orion had been six years old, Eddie had snapped. He had walked up to his Uncle Ron, asked to speak to him in private and then demanded that he be subjected to legilimency to prove he'd done nothing wrong. Seeing how desperate Eddie had been, Ron had arranged it. Eddie's mind had been opened up by a trusted Ministry official and they had found no evidence of any mistreatment. Harry and the rest of the family had reacted badly when they had found out – Harry and Ron had actually had a full scale row in Puddles' kitchen and spent several days not speaking to one another.

Afterwards, Eddie seemed to give up. He was around, and friendly; but he no longer pressed his attentions on his son, remaining quietly in the background and watching Orion grow more and more attached to Zak in his father's absence.

As Orion had grown older, he had proven himself to be both brilliantly intelligent and strong-willed. His frequent waking in the night had made it necessary for him to never share a room with Eoife and he loved his own space, filling it with books well ahead of his age. Most ten-year-olds asked for toys and games; Orion's eyes would go wide with excitement if Zak brought home an A-level textbook for him to look through. He'd even gone so far as to ask to take the entrance exam which allowed early acceptance to Hogwarts; they didn't know yet, but Zak expected that he had passed with flying colours and would be starting in September, a year early.

Sometimes Zak wondered if Orion didn't just want to leave home; if Hogwarts wasn't just another way to get away from his father.

It was with that black thought that Zak escorted Orion back upstairs to bed and sat with him until he fell back to sleep, before climbing back into his own bed and closing his eyes.


End file.
